


Book of the Dragonborn II: Dragon's Bane

by NightingaleTrash



Series: Book of the Dragonborn [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Skyrim Main Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleTrash/pseuds/NightingaleTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been ten years since Mercer Frey's death, and life for Valkari has been business as usual ever since. Until a dragon destorys the town of Helgen, bringing to light an ancient power in Valkari's blood that she never knew she possessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Helgen

_17_ _th_ _Last Seed 4E 201_

Valkari awoke to the sound of grinding cartwheels on uneven ground, and the nauseating swaying to match. Hooves rhythmically beat the ground somewhere up ahead. Her wrists were tightly bound together. She tried to pull them apart. No good. Her head was still throbbing slightly as she forced her eyes open. Everything was hazy, and she winced as a bright shaft of sunlight caught her full in the face and she squeezed her eyes shut again. She hated daylight.

"Hey, you! You're finally awake."

Valkari opened her eyes more tentatively this time, looking for the source of the voice and found herself sitting opposite a nord man with dirty blonde hair and a scruffy beard. He was dressed in brown leathers with a tattered, dirty blue scarf. A Stormcloak uniform.

"You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there!"

"Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was just fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

"Shut up back there!" barked the driver, who Valkari realised was an Imperial soldier.

She blocked them all out, trying to concentrate on her surroundings. The border? No, that couldn't be right. She'd not left Skyrim in her life, and she hadn't been looking to any time soon. She'd been running a job at the border of the Jerralls for Delvin, and that was when the Imperials jumped her as part of their ambush, and she remembered nothing else. She'd clearly not been conscious until now.

To her right there were two other men, also nords. One was small, skinny and grimy, with dirty black hair and was dressed in little more than rags. Valkari guessed that he was the thief the first man had referred to. The other she recognised instantly from working in and around Windhelm, and she knew it meant trouble.

Sitting there with his mouth gagged and hands bound, dressed in heavy black furs, and with a fierce golden mane was Ulfric Stormcloak. And being in the back of a wagon with Ulfric Stormcloak, with her hands bound like this, could be nothing but bad.

It had been ten years since Mercer Frey had died at her hands in Irkngthand. Ten years since she had become a Nightingale. And for ten years, the guild had prospered with its new influx of wealth and infamy, with Brynjolf at the helm as Mercer's successor as guildmaster. They had new members, full coffers, and as Delvin had once said, a Ragged Flagon as busy as the Imperial City. Ten years ago, you'd have tripped on a skeever, the place was so empty.

But that was old news, and given the efforts of the new Nightingale Trinity, it had stayed old news. The Nightingales were now known to the guild, and the trouble with Mercer almost seemed like a bad dream ever since.

But that was ten years ago, and nothing from back then would solve her current predicament. She wasn't the scrawny teenager who probably wouldn't have even gotten sprung in that ambush at all. She was older now, and the 'wrong place at the wrong time' story no longer seemed applicable, no matter how true it actually was.

The horses turned a corner and started moving downhill. There was another wagon up ahead, she realised, filled with more Stormcloaks. Waiting for them was a high wall and a set of gates patrolled by Imperials. She recognised this place. The city of Helgen.

Valkari tried to stay calm. So long as they didn't know of her association with the guild, and provided they believed that she wasn't with the rebels, they ought to let her go free.

Ought to, being the key part of that plan. If not… Well improvising was something she had gotten rather good at over the years.

"General Tullius sir, the headsman is waiting!" called one of the soldiers on the walls.

"Good, let's get this over with."

Valkari spied the good General as they trundled through the gates, as he sat astride his horse. He was speaking with, to Valkari’s disgust, a woman who could only be the Thalmor Ambassador Elenwen. She looked away before Elenwen could notice her glaring.

"Where do you come from?"

Valkari looked up at the man opposite her, who seemed rather resigned at this point as he spoke.

"Why would that interest you?" she asked coldly.

He gave her a rather meaningful look. "A nord's last thoughts should be of home."

She gave him a cold look, before turning away. "Riften."

"Ah, so you _are_ from Skyrim. Well at least we're dying in our homeland, at any rate."

She had nothing to say to that – as far as she was concerned, he could keep his sentiments to himself. There was no 'we,' because she was getting out of there. One way or another.

"Why are we stopping?" squeaked the horse thief worriedly, as the carriages came to a halt alongside a watch tower where the Imperial Flag fluttered in the early morning breeze.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The blond nord turned back to Valkari. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

Valkari said nothing. If she died, she knew where she was going, and the gods had nothing to do with it. She simply got to her feet as the Imperial soldiers came to usher them out of the wagons.

"Wait, we're not rebels!" cried the horse thief.

"Face your death with some courage, thief."

"You have to tell them, we're not with you! This is a mistake!"

Valkari climbed down and joined the huddle of prisoners before a pair of Imperial soldiers, one of whom was holding a list and a quill, the other clearly a Captain going by her regalia.

"Step forward to the block when we call your name," barked the Captain. "One at a time!"

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," the other said, not trying to hide the venom in his tone. Ulfric held his head high as he made his way to the block where the rest of his soldiers were waiting. Valkari could see the headsman from where she stood, and the axe in his hand did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Ralof of Riverwood.” Ralof walked away to join the others, head held high. “Lokir of Rorikstead."

But the thief was clearly not prepared to accept his death quite so gracefully.

"No, please, I'm not a rebel!"

In a sudden burst of mad fear, he made a run for the gates.

"Halt!" cried the Captain, but Lokir showed no signs of stopping. "Archers!"

It was over in a heartbeat, and Lokir didn't even make it to the gates before he fell down dead with several arrows sticking out of his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?" growled the Captain, glaring over at Valkari who had still yet to be called even as the Stormcloaks huddled nearby.

Her comrade looked down his list and back at her, frowning slightly. "You there, step forward."

She did as she was told, knowing it'd resolve things sooner.

"Who are you?"

"Valkari of Riften," she replied coolly. "And I think there's been a mix up."

"Of course there has," snapped the Captain, her eyes dangerously narrowed. "Like I haven't heard that one before."

Valkari glared back at her. "Get in touch with Maven Black-Briar, and she can assure you that you have it wrong. Or would you rather risk pissing her off? I hear that killing her assets tends to do that."

The soldier raised his eyebrows and glanced to his superior.

"You're a friend of the Black-Briars?" Valkari nodded and he looked a little worried. "Captain, perhaps it would be best-"

"I don't care who she's friends with," she snapped. "She goes to the block."

"You really don't care who you piss off, do you?" Valkari shot back, heaving a fake sigh. "And here I was hoping Thane Erikur wouldn't need to be informed as well."

"Boast your connections all you like," sneered the Captain. "It's not going to save your neck. To the block. Now."

Valkari held her glare for a few moments longer, until it was clear that she wasn't going to win and backed down. The imperial soldier still looked rather worried – after all, what did pissing off major Imperial supporters gain you?

Well, now she’d just have to improvise. Just running wouldn't get her anywhere. Lokir had proved that. They'd taken her weapons and her hands were bound, so fighting her way out wasn't an option either. There had to be something she could do, even if it diverted their attention long enough to give her a head start.

But just as she was considering alternatives, a distant roar echoed through the air. Or at least she thought it was a roar. It sounded like one.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers asked aloud as everyone’s eyes turned to the sky.

"It's nothing. Carry on," grunted Tullius, waving for his soldiers to return to attention.

"Yes General Tullius," said the Captain, turning to a priestess. "Give them their Last Rites."

Valkari tuned out the priestess, evaluating the area. She spied a large chest nearby that was tightly locked. She would bet half the Ragged Flagon that that was where they were keeping her gear.

"Oh for the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" snapped one of the Stormcloaks. He stomped over to the block and laid his head down on the stone. "Come on, I haven't got all morning!"

The headsman shrugged, lifted his axe and in one fell swoop, removed his head entirely.

"You Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Valkari pressed her forearm into her side and felt the familiar sensation of a lockpick pressing against her skin. They hadn't found those then. She just needed enough time to slip away unseen with the Shadowcloak-

"Next, the nord in black!"

Shit.

Valkari looked up to find all eyes on her until another roar – closer this time – drew everyone's attention.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" asked the soldier again, turning to glance over at the Captain.

"I said: next. Prisoner," she growled, glowering back at him.

The soldier conceded and turned to her. "Step forward prisoner. Nice and easy."

For Nocturnal's sake...

Fleeing would get her dead, doing as she was told would get her dead. Fuck. The only thing she could think to do was use the Shadowcloak once she was on the block to confuse them all and then make her escape. It was risky, and required careful timing, else she was one more Sentinel left to wander the halls of the Twilight Sepulcher until Nocturnal called for her.

Reluctantly, Valkari stepped forwards to the block. The Captain forced her down to her knees and laid her neck across the block. The headsman stood over her, grinning with rotten peg-like teeth as he lifted the axe. But before she could think to use the Shadowcloak, something caught her attention and it made her eyes go wide with fear.

From the mountains, a gigantic black shape erupted with an ear-splitting roar. The headsman looked around, the axe still over his head as he seemed to forget what he was doing.

"What in Oblivion is that?!" cried Tullius.

"It's in the clouds!"

"DRAGON!"

Suddenly it was chaos, as the dragon circled overhead and came to land atop the stone tower. And in that moment, Valkari locked eyes with the monster.

It was bigger than anything she'd ever seen, with jagged black scales the colour of midnight and eyes the colour of blood. It opened its jaws, exposing rows upon rows of fangs the length of swords and a blast of power erupted from within.

Fire began to rain from the sky as Valkari was thrown backwards across the ground, dazed. For a moment, the world was nothing but a whirl of colour and confusing noise.

"Hey, kinsman!" A distant voice shouted, as rough hands grabbed Valkari by her forearms, hauling her to her feet. It was Ralof. "Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance."

She caught her balance and quickly focused. The dragon had begun to circle. If she could just get to that chest and find her weapons, she stood a fighting chance so long as she didn't get roasted. And besides, she wasn't prepared to lose her weapons – they’d been gifts from Karliah, and meant too much to her for them to just disappear.

She heard Ralof shout after her as she bolted across the courtyard in the direction of the chest, dodging fireballs as she went.

The chest and its contents were still intact, and within a matter of moments, even with her hands tied, she was rid of that pesky lock. The Nightingale bow and blade, as well as her quiver of arrows, were inside and relatively unharmed. She pressed the ropes against the blade of the sword, cutting herself free. Now it was just a matter of getting out of here.

Her best chance was to follow the Stormcloaks right now. They seemed to have found a safe place to hide at any rate. It was a good chance to plan an escape.

Ralof was still at the tower door and waving her over, looking downright furious as she charged back across the square and threw herself through the door.

"Those weapons were really worth it?" he asked incredulously as she straightened herself out.

"Yes," was her curt reply. Especially considering everything that had led to her getting them.

He gave her a funny look, but said nothing more as Ulfric stepped forward.

"We need to move, now," he ordered, moving over to his men as they treated their wounded.

Ralof nodded to Valkari. "Up through the tower, let's go."

She just hoped they had a plan. Imperials were one thing. A dragon was quite another.

So she followed Ralof up the winding staircase through the tower where another Stormcloak was waiting. To her dismay, the tower had collapsed in on itself, and rubble blocked the way forward.

"We need to find a way through-!"

He never got to finish his sentence as the wall was blown inwards and the dragon stuck its long snout inside, smoke curling from its nostrils.

"Get down!" yelled Ralof as a torrent of fire poured from it’s jaws and into the tower, burning the other Stormcloak alive as he screamed in agony. But Valkari was already half way back down the steps. Her focus was on keeping herself alive.

Satisfied, the dragon took off once more and left only the blackened corpse behind. Valkari hurried over to the hole the beast’s head left behind. Within mere minutes, the dragon had single-handedly reduced the city to little more than rubble, as smoke billowed into the sky in thick columns and people were running and screaming in the streets below.

"See the inn on the other side?" said Ralof, pointing out the building below. "Jump through the roof and keep going. Go, we'll follow when we can!"

He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time to aid his fellow rebels. Valkari shrugged and took a running jump down into the inn below, tumbling across the floor as she landed. The air was a thick cloud of smoke, and she pulled up her mask to protect herself as best she could from breathing it in. Her eyes were burning and she wasted no time in clearing the inn as quickly as possible.

"Just walk towards me!"

A young boy was crouched beside his father, who looked to be grievously injured. The soldier from before was urging the boy into cover as the dragon circled overhead, whilst another, much older nord was keeping a wary eye on the beast.

"Hamming, you need to get over here! Now!"

But the boy was sobbing, tears pouring down his filthy cheeks. He wasn't moving anytime soon, and the dragon was dropping lower and lower. Valkari didn't often do things for other people that didn’t involve gold, but children were a different matter.

She ran out, seizing the boy around the waist, dragging him back to safety as he screamed and cried: "PUT ME DOWN! YOU NEED TO SAVE HIM TOO! PAPA!"

Valkari ignored him entirely as she threw him under cover just in time. The dragon landed, crushing the boy's father beneath its giant claws.

The boy was sobbing and screaming and punching every part of Valkari in reach, so she thrusted him over to the soldier who quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Still alive prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."

"Did you say the same to your friend over there?" she asked, jerking her head in the direction of the boy's father.

The soldier frowned slightly. "Look, if this is over the execution, it was a mistake. You weren't even supposed to be in that cart."

"Yeah well the Legion hasn't won many favours from me today," she replied coldly. "I do things my way, got that?"

"Gunnar take care of the boy," said the soldier, handing the boy over to the older nord man whilst shooting her a rather impressed look. "I have to find General Tullius and join the defence. Prisoner – Valkari was it? Come with me."

"Gods guide you Hadvar," grunted Gunnar, guiding the boy away.

Hadvar drew his sword as the dragon took off again and they bolted across to a nearby alley way as another burst of fire erupted behind them.

"Stay close to the wall!" cried Hadvar, and it was not a moment too soon as the dragon landed once again, breathing fire down on more soldiers. Once it was gone, they carried on and tried to ignore the stench of burning flesh. Soldiers, archers and mages were desperately trying to fight back the dragon to no avail. It was almost as if the thing was resistant to all forms of attack. "We need to get to the keep."

Valkari didn't need to be told twice, as she took off at full sprint towards the keep, not caring to check if Hadvar was keeping up as she ran for the door. She slipped inside just as the keep gave a worrying rumble, but it gave no signs of collapse. That was good. She didn't get this far just to be crushed to death.

It seemed she’d made it into the barracks, going by the beds lining the walls and the weapon and armour racks. Then her body decided to make its protests known. Her muscles were sore from running and her lungs were wheezing thanks to the smoke. She doubled over, taking a moment to force down some air, her throat still burning from the smoke and soot.

“Have to get out of here…” she murmured, straightening up and glancing over towards a gate leading deeper into the keep. She moved to investigate when the door behind her opened again. She held her bow ready, pointing an arrow at the intruder.

"It's just me!" Hadvar cried, sheathing his swords and holding up his hands in surrender.

Valkari lowered the bow slowly, eying him suspiciously, though it seemed he didn’t intend to attack her. For now, he might be worth having around, at least until they were clear of the danger.

"You really know how to run," Hadvar commented, lowering his hands and making his way inside.

"I've had practice," Valkari remarked bluntly, shouldering her bow. "So... now what?"

"We keep moving. There's underground tunnels beneath the fort that lead out into the wilds outside of the city," Hadvar explained, crossing over to a nearby desk. He took a key from the inside drawer. “We can get out through there.”

"That's convenient," Valkari noted, following him to the door leading further into the keep. "Let's hope there aren't more dragons waiting for us down there."

Hadvar chuckled. "It'd be a job to hide a grown dragon down there, but I suppose you never know."

He led the way down the hall, turned a corner, then stopped. Valkari frowned. There were voices up ahead, just beyond a heavy iron gate.

"Stormcloaks," muttered Hadvar. "Maybe we can reason with them?"

She snorted. "And maybe we can make a bear dance whilst we're at it."

The grim look on his face indicated that he knew that their chances of a peaceful encounter were slim, even with a dragon wreaking havoc outside, threatening to bring the fort down around them. Rebels could be such idiots.

True enough, Valkari and Hadvar had barely stepped through the door before the rebels were shouting 'Imperial dogs!' and 'For Ulfric!' Valkari wasted no time nocking an arrow and catching the first dead between the eyes and sending him toppling backwards. Hadvar's sword hit the other right in the neck. Blood spattered from the wound, and she slid from the blade, hitting the ground with a thump.

Hadvar shook his head, looking remorseful.

"Poor fools... May you find peace in Sovngarde."

It was only when Valkari stopped to pull her arrow out of the Stormcloak did she realise it was Ralof, his face transfixed in a mix of horror and anger. She shook her own head.

'That's what happens when you charge thoughtlessly at the wrong people, idiot,' she thought to herself, following Hadvar further down into the fort.

[]

More Stormcloaks wandered the tunnels below the fort, looking for a way out. Valkari would've been content to let them live, but they only saw Hadvar's Imperial uniform and assumed they were the enemy. She was starting to think less and less of the rebels, and she never thought very highly of them in the first place.

What no one mentioned were all the spiders - even the Ratway didn't have this many of them - or the cave bear. Luckily she was sleeping and the pair were able to creep past without causing her to stir. All things considered, after escaping a dragon, being killed by a bear would have been embarrassing.

By the time they found the way out, Valkari was relieved to see daylight for the first time in years. Her whole body ached from the pains of battle, pains she really wasn't accustomed to. Not that she got even a moment to breathe before Hadvar hissed, "get down!" and dragged her behind an outcropping of rock as the great black dragon swooped overhead with an ear-shattering roar. It soared away into the distance, in the direction of Whiterun.

Hadvar sighed in relief, watching as it vanished into the distance. "There he goes... Looks like he's gone for good this time."

"The further away he is from me, the happier I am," Valkari grunted.

Hadvar turned back to her, eyes quickly surveying her. It was... uncomfortable.

"You got pretty roughed up in there," he noted. "Come on, I've got some family in Riverwood. I'm sure they wouldn't mind putting you up for a night or two."

"I don't need-!" She stopped mid-sentence, hissing in pain. The spider bite on her thigh was a nasty shade of green. Definitely venomous. "...Okay, fine."

Hadvar chuckled. "See? Not that hard to bend your pride a little."

"Shut it, Imperial,” she grunted, shoving past him, trying to ignore the pain in her leg.

Hadvar simply shook his head and followed after her down the road.

As they rounded the corner, they could see Helgen burning further up the hill, smoke still bellowing into the sky. Valkari couldn’t see anyone and briefly wondered if anyone else had made it out. She shook her head. That didn’t concern her, what mattered was getting herself patched up.

The road was disturbingly quiet as they walked. There was no sign of any stragglers from Helgen, no soldiers or guards. There was no one but the two of them, limping along, trying to ignore the pains and protests of their bodies.

Finally Riverwood came into view, a quaint little hamlet south of Whiterun. It wasn’t a place Valkari would usually visit - not many opportunities for a thief out in the middle of nowhere - but today it would be good enough.

“A dragon! I saw a dragon!” cried an old woman, standing outside her home, staring in horror at the sky.

“What is it now mother?” sighed a nord man, rolling his eyes.

“I-It was big as the mountain and black as night!” she bleated. “It flew right over the barrow!”

"Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother. If you keep on like this everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies."

“You'll see! It was a dragon! It'll kill us all and then you'll believe me!"

Valkari and Hadvar said nothing as they passed, making their way over to the forge. A broad nord man with a thick black beard peppered with silver hair was working the bellows. Next to him was a girl of about ten years of age, dark haired and pestering him relentlessly.

"Is it time yet? Time for me to make my sword? Or maybe... an axe?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as she bounced on the balls of her feet eagerly. Valkari couldn’t help but be reminded of herself, back when she pestered Niruin to teach her how to shoot a bow, and she had to bite back a small smile.

"Patience, Dorthe. You'll get some time at the forge, I promise you,” her father chuckled. “But not right now. You need to keep watching me. That's how you'll learn."

"All right. But I am getting a bit tired of waiting."

He simply chuckled again, standing up straight and turning to grab his tongues when he caught sight of Hadvar and Valkari, both grimy, filthy, and covered in soot. Hadvar waved, smiling wearily.

"Uncle Alvor, hello."

Alvor blinked.

"Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from…” He paused, looking over Hadvar properly, taking in the burns and cuts. “Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Shh.. Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk," Hadvar insisted, though Alvor wasn’t to be deterred from his questions.

"What's going on? And who's this?" he asked, turning to Valkari.

"She's a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

"Okay, okay. Come on inside. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell us what happened."

Dorthe was watching the whole exchange quietly, eyes still bright with curiosity. She followed them into the house, though her father shooed her away.

“The grown ups are speaking Dorthe, you’ll have time to pester your cousin and his friend later,” he said, before moving over to the stairs leading down into the cellar. “Sigrid! We have company!"

He sat himself down at the kitchen table as Sigrid appeared from the cellar, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Hadvar!” she exclaimed, crossing over to hug him, and pressed a kiss to his grimy cheek. “We’ve been so worried about you!”

“I’m alright, Aunt Sigrid,” he assured them. “This is my friend, Valkari.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. Valkari took it, albeit reluctantly and let go very quickly, though Sigrid didn’t seem to mind. “Come, you two must be hungry.”

She sat them both down at the table and ladled out some bowls of soup with slices of bread. It smelled good, and Valkari had to be careful not to wolf it down - she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Sigrid simply smiled and sat down beside her husband, waiting for the two to finish eating.

"Now, then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?" asked Alvor, gesturing to the cuts, burns and bruises covering them both.

Hadvar sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked... by a dragon."

A chilling silence settled over the room. Alvor stared at Hadvar like he might be mad, then he shook his head.

"A dragon? That's... ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you boy?"

"Husband. Let him tell his story," scolded Sigrid, gently smacking his arm with the back of her hand. She looked over at Valkari, like she was hoping she was going to affirm that Hadvar was indeed drunk and they really had just fought a cave bear.

"Not much more to tell. This dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion,” Hadvar went on. “I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for Valkari. I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."

Alvor nodded. "Of course! Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help however I can." He got to his feet. “I need to get back to the forge. Sigrid can sort the two of you out, and I’m sure Dorthe would be glad to help.”

[]

“Where are you from?”

Valkari glanced over her shoulder. Dorthe was sitting on the bank of the river, watching her with great interest. Perhaps whilst she was in the middle of bathing wasn’t the best time to have a child chatting to her, but her years in the Thieves Guild had long done away with any real self-consciousness.

“Riften,” she replied.

“I told Hadvar,” Dorthe said smugly. “Your accent is really different from his and Papa’s.”

Valkari hummed, cupping water in her hands and scrubbing at her dark red hair. She was still finding soot everywhere, and it was definitely unpleasant.

“How big was the dragon?”

“I didn’t stop to look,” she said flatly.

“Was it bigger than the Sleeping Giant?”

“Definitely.”

“Wow, you were really lucky then! Or maybe just really cool.” Valkari smirked. She wasn’t going to object to that assessment. “Is this your armour? Where did you get it?”

The Nightingale Armour had been scrubbed thoroughly in the river and laid out to dry in the late afternoon sun.

“It’s… custom made. And she doesn’t take orders.”

“Papa does some leather work when he makes armours, but nothing like this. What does your Papa do?”

Valkari paused for a moment, then said, “he’s a businessman, over in Riften. Very busy most days, but he always has time for me.”

“Bet it’s not as exciting as blacksmithing!” Another smirk. Oh if only she knew what sort of business they got up to… “Mama doesn’t like that I want to be a blacksmith. She wants me to do _girly_ things. It’s stupid girl talk.”

Valkari turned back to Dorthe, cocking an eyebrow.

“Your mother isn’t happy that you enjoy blacksmithing?” she asked.

“She isn’t happy with anything I like doing,” Dorthe sighed, her grin fading. “She wants me to sew, and cook, and grow vegetables… But those things aren’t fun. I like catching frogs and playing with my friend Frodnar, and watching Papa work. I want to make a sword one day, but he says I’m not ready yet.”

Valkari frowned, moving to sit on the bank and looking Dorthe dead in the eye.

“If you enjoy those things, keep doing them,” she said firmly. “Don’t compromise who and what you are for anyone. And if people try to force you-” she paused, reflecting that giving her Vex’s advice of ‘stick a dagger in their eye’ was probably not appropriate for Dorthe’s issue- “you tell them to sod off. It’s your life and no one else’s. You don’t owe your mother a ‘proper little girl’ okay?”

Dorthe blinked, then beamed, nodding ecstatically.

“I’ll do that! Thanks Valkari!”

Valkari smiled at the ten year old before turning back to finish washing her hair.


	2. Wall of Words

Evening rolled around and Valkari stepped into the house. Hadvar was seated at the hearth with Dorthe sitting in his lap, jabbering away as it seemed she was prone to do, whilst Sigrid was busy preparing dinner. Alvor was still outside, locking up the forge. He told her that since the war began in earnest, Stormcloak supporters had begun to steal tools and materials, and so he’d had to invest in new locks to keep the thieves out.

Valkari would’ve cracked them in fifteen seconds if she took her picks to them.

“Ah Valkari. Dinner will be ready in just a minute…! Oh, by Ysmir’s beard!”

“What’s wrong, Aunt?” asked Hadvar, forcing Dorthe to pause halfway through her story.

Sigrid pressed her palm to her forehead.

“I forgot to buy some cabbages at the Riverside Trader today,” she groaned. “I think they’d still be open, but I can’t leave this unattended…” She looked over at Valkari. “If it wouldn’t be too much to ask, could you run over there? I can give you the gold to buy them.”

Valkari shrugged.

“I can do that.”

She took the handful of gold Sigrid held out and stepped back out into the chilly evening air. “She forgot to buy cabbages,” she said, as Alvor gave her a questioning look. He nodded and headed past into the house whilst Valkari made her way over to the Riverside Trader. The lights were still on, and the sign in the window read ‘open’ so she stepped inside.

“Well one of us has to do something!”

"We are done talking about this."

"Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!"

“I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief chasing!”

She hesitated on the threshold, wondering if she should just leave. The shopkeepers were arguing, quite loudly. The man behind the counter caught sight of her however and flinched, slapping on a nervous smile in place of the angry scowl he’d been giving the woman just a few seconds ago.

“Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that," he said hastily. “What can I get you?”

“Sigrid sent me to get her a couple of cabbages,” Valkari said, placing the gold on the counter.

“Of course, one moment…” He waved to the woman who reached into a basket and pulled out two large cabbages, which she placed on the counter. She was still giving him a very pointed glare.

“So what’s this about thieves?” Valkari asked, feeling curious.

The shopkeeper flinched slightly, like he’d been jabbed with a hot rod.

"Oh uh, yes, we did have a bit of a... break-in,” he admitted embarrassedly. “But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold. In the shape of a dragon's claw."

Valkari cocked an eyebrow. Interesting that a shabby little shop like this could own house such an ornament. It’d certainly never caught the guilds’ attention.

“They took the claw up to Bleak Falls Barrow,” the woman explained. “We have no idea what they plan to do with it, it’s just an ornament.”

An ornament that could earn Valkari a bit of gold if she brought it back… And could earn the guild a bit more if they stole it back.

“If you like, I could head up to the barrow tomorrow. Maybe see if I can find this claw of yours,” she offered.

"You would do that? I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back."

“Deal.”

Valkari took the cabbages and headed back to Alvor and Sigrid’s house. Sigrid was very pleased to have her vegetables and quickly got to work preparing them. Soon enough they were all seated around the table for dinner. It must have been normal for all of them, though Valkari couldn’t deny that the feeling was… odd. In the guild, mealtimes were always whenever she finished work for the day, sitting in the Ragged Flagon with whatever Vekel provided. Not sitting down altogether like a family over a homecooked meal.

Dorthe had resumed her earlier chatter about what she’d learned about smithing, and every now and then Alvor would gently correct her when she fumbled her words slightly. Sigrid certainly didn’t seem all too pleased, though she said nothing immediately. And especially not directly.

“Tell us about yourself, Valkari,” she said pleasantly. “You’ve been quiet ever since you got here.”

“She talks to me!” Dorthe chirped proudly, though Sigrid hushed her.

“I’d say you were from Riften, going by your accent,” Hadvar pointed out. “And you said you were a personal friend of Maven Black-Briar.”

Sigrid raised her eyebrows, as did Alvor. Dorthe pulled a face.

“Friend is a bit of a strong word,” Valkari said smoothly. “We’re more associates really. She needs something done, I get it done. And I’m very good at getting things done.”

“So she considers you a valuable asset,” Alvor concluded. “That woman doesn’t do ‘friends’ after all.”

“Never a truer word spoken,” Valkari agreed.

“What about your mother?” asked Sigrid - the real reason she started the conversation. “Did you have to help her with chores and such?”

“She’s dead,” Valkari said bluntly. “Died of wasting sickness.”

Sigrid shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I’m sorry about that, Valkari,” Hadvar said somberly.

She shrugged. "I've still got my Pa. He taught me everything I know about surviving and looking after myself.”

“Like how to use that bow?” asked Dorthe, pointing to the weapon propped up against the wall.

Valkari laughed. “No, he’s useless with a bow. He got a friend of his to teach me… Or I pestered him to anyway.”

“Now who does that sound like?” chuckled Hadvar, throwing Dorthe a sideways glance, and she simply laughed, as did Alvor. Sigrid just sighed, shaking her head.

[]

The next morning dawned early, and Valkari dressed quickly and quietly into her armour. She’d promised the shopkeeper, Lucan Valerius, that she’d go and find this ornament of his up in the barrow in exchange for some gold. Ordinarily such jobs were beneath her, but considering she’d lost her coin purse in the Imperial ambush, she was willing to take whatever she could get.

So she gathered her weapons and some supplies and stepped out into the morning sun. Alvor and Hadvar were already up and working the forge. The roads were dangerous, and Hadvar was lingering in town for a while before reporting back to Solitude, waiting for the roads to clear again. There was still no word on the status of the Stormcloak and Imperial leaders. The dragon had caused a lot of turmoil and news was hard to come by.

It was another reason Valkari hadn’t simply left Riverwood yet. She wanted to be certain she wasn’t going to accidentally wander into another Imperial ambush or get eaten by a dragon before she set out for Riften again.

Lucan’s sister, Camilla, was waiting outside the Riverwood Trade. She smiled brightly when she saw Valkari approaching and waved her over.

“I just want to thank you again for what you’re doing for us,” she said brightly. “It’s awfully brave of you.”

Valkari shrugged. “I get things done. It’s what I do.”

“I’ll bet.” She winked roguishly. “You just need to head down the road, across the bridge and take a left. The path leads straight up to the barrow. Just be careful, those ruffians are a nasty sort.”

‘I’ll bet,’ Valkari thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes before walking away up the road. Sure enough, as Valkari climbed high enough up the mountain that she was trudging through snow, there were bandits lurking about. She avoided catching their eye easily enough by avoiding the tower they occupied, but as she approached the barrow itself, it was obvious that sneaking past them wasn’t going to be quite so easy.

The structure dominated the mountain side. A series of massive stone arches towered overhead, stark black against the cloudy grey sky and white snow. The bandits had set up a camp right outside, and there were a lot of them. More than Valkari could deal with on her own.

So she got an idea to draw their attention.

Shrouding herself with the shadow cloak, Valkari picked up a fist full of snow and chose a big, stupid-looking bandit who stood furthest from the barrow entrance. The snowball hit him squarely in the back of the head and he spun around, snarling.

“Okay, who threw that?!” he demanded, eying the others with a very nasty look. He looked like he was itching to reach for his axe.

Within seconds the other bandits had started pointing fingers and they were all shouting angrily. The ones guarding the entrance hurried to help restrain their companions, the big stupid one now on the verge of chopping someone’s head off. None of them noticed the doors open a crack just wide enough for a small person to slid inside.

Valkari smirked as she crept across the hall. Bandits really were as thick as they came. But she knew her troubles didn’t end with that lot outside. A couple of others had made a camp at the mouth of a passage leading further inside.

"So we're just supposed to sit here while Arvel runs off with that golden claw?" huffed the woman, crossing her arms over her chest angrily.

"That dark elf wants to go on ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks," grunted her companion.

"What if Arvel doesn't come back? I want my share from that claw!"

"Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble."

It didn’t matter how hard they looked. Valkari simply drew the shadowcloak around herself again and managed to weave past their small camp, slipping silently further into the ruins. She wasn’t going to risk her neck fighting them. They were bigger and stronger than she was. Taking chances was an idiotic thing to do.

Deeper in the barrow, Valkari found her path blocked by thick spider webs. The sort that the average tiny house spider simply couldn’t be capable. She groaned, taking out her sword. She hated spiders, she really did.

"Is... is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling? I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help!" a voice called on the other side. The dunmer that the bandits had mentioned earlier. Hopefully he still had the claw and she would be able to leave.

The room beyond the webbing was a large circular chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling. Arvel - she was sure that was what they called him - was cocooned in more webbing on the far side of the chamber, with only his head visible.

“Who are you? What are you doing-?” He stopped, looking upwards and he went very pale. Valkari heard it too. An ominous clicking noise from somewhere up above. She looked up at the dark ceiling and saw something very big scuttling overhead, and though it was difficult to make out in the shadows, there was no mistake in what it was.

Arvel began to struggle desperately against his bonds. “It’s coming back!”

Valkari drew her bow, taking aim at the gigantic spider as it came to pause in the centre of the ceiling. The arrow buried itself deep into its abdomen and the spider let out a shrieking noise before it descended from the ceiling, moving into the light.

It was hideous. Hairy, with eight eyes and eight legs, and powerful mandibles that were dripping with venom. A segment of one of its front legs was missing, recently hacked off.

Valkari shouldered her bow and drew her sword. The spider charged and she rolled out of its path, slicing off another of its legs. The spider shrieked again, unable to turn fast enough as she darted around behind it, cutting off another leg. The spider wobbled dangerously, struggling to support its weight.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Arvel yelled, still struggling against the webbing that held him to no avail.

Valkari rolled her eyes, taking off another of the spider’s legs. Without enough legs to support its girth, the spider collapsed to the ground. Valkari leapt up onto the top of its abdomen and stabbed down. Viscous yellow blood gushed from the wound and the spider gave one last shrieking cry before dying once and for all.

Hopping down, Valkari wiped the blade of her sword across the spider’s abdomen, cleaning off the worst of the blood before resheathing her weapon and crossing over to Arvel.

"You did it. You killed it. Now cut me down before anything else shows up," he demanded, looking around worriedly.

“You have the claw?” Valkari asked, not moving to draw a blade. Not yet.

Arvel nodded eagerly. "Yes, the claw. I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how they all fit together!"

She cocked an eyebrow. “The claw opens a door? I thought it was just an ornament.”

“Is that what that idiot Lucan Valerius told you?” he scoffed. “He had no idea that the key to power and treasure was sitting in that shop of his. Cut me down and I can show you!”

“Give me the claw first.”

“Does it look like I can move?” Arvel snapped impatiently. “You have to cut me down first!”

She drew a dagger and cut his arm free.

“Claw. Now.”

“Are you serious?!”

“You saw what I did to her,” Valkari said bluntly, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the dead spider. “Give me the claw now, or you end up like her. How does that sound?”

Arvel grumbled, but he did as he was told and fumbled clumsily for his pack. He pulled out a large golden claw and Valkari took it.

“There, now was that so hard?” she asked, proceeding to cut him free. “Now get out of here. And if you and your friends come after me, you’ll all regret it.”

“But I can help-!”

“I don’t need you,” she growled. “Now get out of here, before I change my mind about letting you go.”

He seemed conflicted. Returning without the claw would likely be a death sentence, and pissing her off was definitely a death sentence. Either way, his prospects weren’t great. Still, it seemed he wasn’t taking his chances on pissing her off and so he scurried back the way she had came in.

Valkari smirked, shaking her head as she tucked the claw into her pack. She didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t going to get his friends to follow after her, so it seemed her best chances were to go deeper still into the ruins and hope there was another way out. And maybe look for this treasure he was looking for.

[]

Draugr. The place was overrun with the damned things. Luckily they were as perceptive as the average bandit, so getting past them was about as easy. But sometimes it wasn’t particularly straightforward. The door Valkari needed to get through had one standing guard right outside.

Carefully, she drew her bow and managed to shoot it through one of its creepy glowing eyes. The draugr collapsed to the floor and Valkari hurried past. She wasn’t sure if draugr _could_ reanimate on their own accord. She’d heard rumours but had never been keen to find out first hand, so she wasted no time.

The door it had been guarding led into what could only be the Hall of Stories. The passage was lined with intricate ancient nord carvings, each depicting some event of the past. Not that she understood any of them. Her ability to read and write in Common was passable enough for her to be considered literate, but ancient nord wasn’t going to happen.

At the end of the hall was the door Arvel had mentioned. It was made up of three stone tiers, each inscribed with images of a bear, a moth and an owl, and in the centre was what had to be the keyhole. Except it wasn’t a standard keyhole. There were three small indentations instead. All in all, the door was almost identical to the one in Snow Veil Sanctum. Mercer had managed to pick that one open - thanks to the Skeleton Key - but Valkari had the matching claw for this door. She just had to figure out how to get it open.

She pulled out the claw and inspected it. On the palm the same three carvings were engraved - the bear on top, the moth in the centre and the owl on the bottom. She turned the tiers so that the markings on the door lined up like the ones on the claw. She then set the tips of the claw into the indents and turned it.

There was a click and a scraping sound. The tiers began to spin, then lined up uniformly before the door began to sink down into the floor, revealing a narrow stone passage behind it.

“Gotta be close now…”

The passage opened up into a large natural cavern. A swarm of bats swooped overhead, back down the passage Valkari had just came through, and she ducked before straightening up to take in the room properly. It was hard not to be mesmerised for a few seconds. A waterfall crashed down on one side of the room, and a river ran across the middle. Beyond that there was a large stone dais, a sarcophagus and a massive curved stone wall, much like the one in Snow Veil Sanctum.

Even from here, Valkari could feel it thrumming with energy. As she drew closer, she could hear voices chanting from inside, flooding her senses, a blinding light emanating from the wall as the voices grew louder, filling her up inside.

Then it began to fade, the energy drew inside of her and the voices fell silent until one word was left burning at the front of her mind.

“Fus…” she murmured. Something about the word reminded her of the first one. Zun. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly knew either of them, only that both had come from these walls… And she had no idea how that worked.

Was this the supposed power the ancient nords had sealed away down here? If so, it was massively disappointing. She’d look around for any treasures they might have left, but somehow she doubted she’d find much.

But before she so much as turned around there was a loud ‘crack!’ and the lid of the sarcophagus fell to one side. Valkari reached for her bow and nocked an arrow as the draugr emerged from inside.

It turned its head, glowing blue eyes focusing on Valkari. It reached for its sword - a two-hander with tendrils of pale blue light crawling up the blade. Some sort of frost enchantment.

Valkari shot, catching the draugr in the shoulder, causing it to stagger. Then its opened its mouth and in a rasping voice, it Shouted, “FUS RO DAH!”

Somehow raw energy erupted from its mouth and threw Valkari back against the wall through sheer force, winding her. She hit the floor, struggling to force air back into her lungs as she scrambled back to her feet, lifting her bow and readying another arrow as the draugr charged, swinging its sword down. But she was fasted and managed to move out of the way before hitting it in the ribs with the end of her bow.

The draugr growled and she backed off, taking aim and catching it through the eye. It let out an unearthly shriek and Valkari grabbed her dagger and rammed the blade into where the creature’s heart used to be. The draugr screamed before crumbling into a heap of bones and dust on the floor, the sword clattering over the flagstones.

Valkari breathed hard, shouldering her bow and resheathing her dagger. That had been a bit too close for her liking.

She peered into the sarcophagus and, to her disappointment, her effort was not to be rewarded with gold coins or gems. Instead all that awaited her inside was some ancient dusty stone tablet. She picked it up with some difficulty and dusted it off. She had no idea what it was, but if anyone would buy it, it would be some scholarly type. Maybe Enthir could look up someone willing to buy it. He knew the sorts in the College best, and knew who was willing to buy what.

So she stowed the tablet into her pack. It was heavy, so the sooner she got back to Riverwood, the happier she would be.

[]

It was dusk by the time Valkari got back, and Hadvar was waiting for her at the bridge. He grinned when he spotted her approach.

“We were starting to worry you weren’t coming back,” he remarked. “Camilla told us you went looking for some stolen ornament for her and her brother.”

He sounded disbelieving, so Valkari pulled the claw out of her pack.

“I told you, I get things done.”

He whistled at the sight of it. “I can see why Maven values you. Most folk round here wouldn’t dare go near the barrow, let alone go inside. You’re a brave one.”

Valkari shrugged, putting the claw away again. “I’d best get it back to Lucan. I need to pick up my pay.”

He nodded.

“Of course. Oh, and my uncle wants to speak with you. He’s worried that word from Helgen hasn’t reached Whiterun yet. With all the confusion and the war, news is slow, and with that dragon about…” He trailed off, and Valkari frowned.

“He wants _me_ to alert the Jarl?”

“Why not you? You were there, you saw what the dragon did, what it’s capable of.”

“So why can’t you do it?” she asked.

“I’m a soldier in the Imperial Legion, and Jarl Balgruuf knows that. It’s not something I make a secret of,” he explained. “He’s determined to stay neutral in the war and might not even let me into the city. But you? A survivor with no political ties? If you brought him news, he would listen.”

Valkari shrugged. It made a certain amount of sense, and if she could squeeze a reward out of the man for bringing the news, all the better. It was a few more coins in her purse, going towards making up for what she’d lost.

“So I take it you’ll be heading back to Solitude soon?” she asked, as they turned to head back into the village.

“Yes. The worst of the chaos has died down again now, so I should be able to make it back in one piece to deliver my report. And I take it you’ll be heading back to Riften after seeing the Jarl?”

“That’s the plan. I’ve got work to catch up on, and if I don’t show up soon, my old man’ll skin me.”

Lucan was thrilled beyond relief to have his claw back, taking it from Valkari gladly and handing over a fat coin purse in exchange. She neglected to mention that the claw was in fact a key to the Hall of Stories. After all, when the bandits did get there for themselves, they’d be bitterly disappointed to find a heap of dusty old bones and not much else.

Back at the house, Alvor was waiting at the table. He waved Valkari over when she stepped inside.

“I hate to ask anything of you after what I’m sure was a trying day up at the barrow, Valkari. But need your help. _We_ need your help." He sighed, lacing his fingers together on the table top. "The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless. We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

“I needed to head that way anyway,” Valkari said, shrugging. “I can pass the word along to Balgruuf while I’m at it.”

Alvor smiled relievedly and clapped her on the shoulder.

“Wherever your road leads, my friend, you’re welcome in our home whenever you like,” he said heartily. “I’m sure Dorthe would love for you to come visit some time.”

[]

The following day was another early start for Valkari. She sat up in the cot that Sigrid had set up for her in the cellar - there wasn’t any room upstairs - and she groggily rooted around for her armour. Once she was dressed and she braided her hair back, she gathered her things and made her way upstairs, the stone tablet still heavy in her pack. It was almost tempting to leave it in the house until she had a buyer, but she liked to know exactly where her wares were. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Alvor and Sigrid, she just didn’t want them asking questions.

Hadvar was also departing for Solitude that day and was already dressed in his Legionnare armour and eating breakfast whilst Dorthe chattered about the things she wanted to forge when Alvor finally let her have a go at making things.

Sigrid kissed Valkari’s cheek when she emerged, greeting her good morning as she bustled about. Somedays Valkari wondered if she ever stopped working.

“You’ll write to me lots whilst you’re gone, won’t you Hadvar?” asked Dorthe.

He ruffled her hair. “As often as I can.”

“And Valkari, you’ll write too won’t you?”

She paused, then said, “if I run into anymore dragons, you’ll be the first to know.”

It seemed to be enough for Dorthe who simply cheered, then shouted over at her mother that Valkari had promised to write. Sigrid simply smiled and said, “that’s very nice dear, now eat your breakfast.”

Soon enough, Valkari found herself walking down the road side-by-side with Hadvar, having said goodbye to Alvor, Sigrid and Dorthe and setting off.

Whiterun wasn’t far from Riverwood and it took less than a couple of hours to walk there.

Ordinarily, Valkari wouldn’t concern herself with matters that fell outside of her work, and she certainly stayed far away from dealing with politicians, but really was there any harm in alerting the Jarl to the dragon? She’d seen what happened in Helgen. A village like Riverwood didn’t stand a chance against that monster. And besides, she owed Hadvar and his family, and Valkari was the kind of person who preferred to pay her debts before they could come back to bite her.

When they reached the Whiterun stables, Hadvar turned to Valkari.

“I suppose this is where we part ways,” he said, smiling. “Good luck to you Valkari.”

“And you. Try not to die some stupid heroes death out there?”

He chuckled. “I’ll do my best. And you try not to get yourself laid out on a chopping block again. I might not be there to vouch for you next time.”

“You arguing on my behalf didn’t really amount to much last time,” she said sarcastically, smirking. Hadvar just shook his head and said his goodbyes before hopping up on the back of a carriage bound for Solitude. Valkari waved as he left, trundling off up the road, but she turned and made her way up towards the city gates. Except they were closed, and the guards didn’t seem to be letting anyone in.

“City’s closed with the dragons about. Official business only,” said one of the guards as she approached.

“I came from Helgen. I was there when the dragon attacked.”

“Helgen?” The guard looked over to his partner, who nodded. “You’d better go on in. You’ll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill.”

He unlocked the gates and allowed her inside, and she found herself at the foot of a familiar cobbled street. In spite of the apparent danger of the dragon, the streets were fairly busy with the locals going about their day. Valkari hurried towards Dragonsreach, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. She heard the worried and frightened whispers as she passed, all of them talking about one thing and one thing only: dragons.

Dragonsreach had changed very little over the years. It was easily the biggest building in Whiterun, taking up the entirety of the Cloud District and it could be seen from miles away out in the plains.

The inside of the hall was lit by braziers and hand woven tapestries bearing Whiterun’s crest (a stallion) hung from the walls. A flight of stairs led to the upper half of the main hall; there were two tables on either side of a large fire pit, currently empty but would be laden with the evening meal later. Nordic knots were carved into the wooden beams holding up the ceiling, and servants were hurrying about cleaning. At the end of the hall was the Jarl’s throne atop a stone dais, with a gigantic dragon skull mounted on the wall above it. And right now, a small gaggle of people were standing around the throne, arguing loudly.

As Valkari reached the top of the steps, one of them looked over and drew a sword.

She was a dunmer woman with dark red hair, full leather armour, and she had scarlet markings tattooed across her face.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” she snapped. “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.”

“I came from Helgen. I was there when the dragon attacked.”

“Well, that explains why the guards let you in,” she said, returning her sword to its scabbard. “Come on then. The Jarl will want to speak with you personally.”

The Jarl and his steward promptly ceased their conversation, looking expectantly at the dunmer.

“My Jarl, this woman-“

“I heard,” he said, nodding his head before turning to Valkari. “So you were at Helgen. You saw this dragon with your own eyes?”

“Yes, I had a great view of it when the Imperials were trying to cut my head off.”

“Well, you certainly are forthright about your criminal past…” He remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” she snorted. “My name wasn’t even on their list.”

Balgruuf shook his head. “It’s not my concern who the Imperials want to execute. Especially now. What I want to know is exactly what happened at Helgen.”

“The dragon came out of nowhere and destroyed the town. Last I saw of it, it was headed this way about three days ago.”

Balgruuf’s eyes went wide with horror. “By Ysmir, Irileth was right!” He turned to the steward and frowned. “What do you say now, Proventus? Do we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?”

“My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once,” said Irileth. “It’s in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is still lurking in the mountains-“

“The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation,” argued Proventus. “He will assume we are preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him! We should not-“

“Enough!” barked Balgruuf. “I will not stand idly by as a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”

Irileth bowed her head and marched out of the hall.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my duties,” sniffed Proventus. He nodded curtly before departing and Balgruuf returned his attention to Valkari.

“Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You’ve done Whiterun a service, and I won’t forget it,” he said, bowing his head. “Take this as a small token of my esteem.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver amulet with a sapphire set in the centre of it. It glowed and hummed in Valkari’s hands – enchanted. It had to be worth a fair bit of coin.

“There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps?”

“Okay, I’ll make this clear. I don’t do anything for free, and especially not if it involves children or animals,” she said flatly, folding her arms.

Balgruuf got to his feet. “It is nothing of the sort. And provided you succeed, you shall be rewarded. Come, let’s go find Farengar, my court wizard. He’s been looking into a matter related to these dragons and… rumours of dragons.”

Balgruuf led her into a room adjacent to the main hall. It was a laboratory that could only belong to a wizard, with notes and books scattered all over the place, odd instruments and the occasional soul gem left here and there. A map of Skyrim was pinned up on a board. There was a black ‘x’ where Helgen used to be. At the desk, two people were bent over some old text. One was clearly the Court Wizard, whilst the other was dressed in leather armour and their hood hid their face from view.

"You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other later texts," Farengar explained.

"Good. I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."

"Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has been looking into providing me with aid in retrieving the item you mentioned, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research."

“Time is running out, Farengar, don't forget,” the hooded woman said sternly. “This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back."

"Yes, yes. Don't worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable…” He trailed off for a moment, then shook his head and reached for another scroll lying nearby. “Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers may be interested as well..."

The hooded woman looked up as Balgruuf and Valkari entered the study.

"You have visitors."

“Farengar.” The wizard jumped, having not heard them enter, and upset a bottle of ink as he did so. Balgruuf rolled his eyes, and said, “I found someone to help with you dragon project. Fill her in on the details. This is a priority now. Anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons. We need it, quickly. Before it's too late."

As the Jarl left, Farengar straightened the bottle and eyed Valkari critically. He waved a hand and magicked away the drops of ink he had spilt.

“So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons,” he said idly as he turned to his notes on the desk. “I could use someone to fetch something for me.”

“I’m not an errand girl,” Valkari replied shortly, folding her arms over her chest.

“Well, when he says ‘fetch’ he means delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not be there,” his companion said dryly, folding her arms over her chest.

Ruins. Of course. Valkari had had enough of ruins for one lifetime, but the Jarl had promised a reward and her coin purse was still woefully light.

“Just tell me what to do,” she said coolly.

“Straight to the point, eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave the details to your betters, am I right?” Farengar said idly, waving a hand.

“Tell me what to do, before I decide to take my services elsewhere,” she growled.

“I, ah, learned of an ancient stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow, just outside of Riverwood,” Farengar said hurriedly. “A ‘Dragonstone’, said to contain a map of ancient dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet – no doubt interred in the main chamber – and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.”

Valkari blinked. What were the odds…?

“Do you mean, _this_ stone tablet?” she asked, reaching into her pack and presenting the stone. Even though both of them were hooded, Valkari could see Farengar and his associate’s jaws drop at the sight of it. Clearly neither of them had been certain it existed, let alone that someone else already had it.

"The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! You already found it! It seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way,” Farengar said delightedly, taking the stone and placing it on the desk. “My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me." He turned back to his associate. "So your information was correct after all. And we have our friend here to thank for recovering it for us."

The hooded woman looked up at Valkari, her face still concealed.

“You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work,” she said shortly before turning back to Farengar. “Just send me a copy when you've deciphered it."

Farengar nodded and the hooded woman strode past, nodding curtly at Valkari as she left. Valkari turned back to Farengar, who was already inspecting the stone.

“I believe I was promised a reward for that thing,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.

“Hm? Oh, yes of course. You should see the Jarl about that. Or maybe his steward, Avenicci? I have much work to do, so if you will excuse me…”

But before Valkari could even turn to leave, Irileth came running in.

“Farengar! You must come at once! A dragon has been sighted outside of the city!”


	3. Dragon Rising

Valkari wasn’t sure how she of all people had ended up in the Dragonsreach War Room, yet here she was alongside Irileth, Balgruuf, Proventus, Captain Caius and a frightened looking guardsman. Everyone seemed on edge. Considering that a dragon had obliterated Helgen in a matter of minutes, it was no surprise. If they couldn’t stop the dragon, Whiterun would share the same fate.

Once everyone was inside, Irileth turned to Balgruuf.

“One watchman reporting in my Lord. He says a dragon was sighted over the Western Watchtower,” she reported smartly before turning to the guardsman. “Tell the Jarl what you told me. About the dragon.”

“Ah that’s right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast, faster than anything I’d ever seen.”

“What did it do?” asked Balgruuf worriedly. “Is it attacking the watchtower?”

The guard shook his head. “No my Lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I’ve never run so fast in my life. I thought it would come after me for sure.”

“Good work, son. We’ll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You’ve earned it.”

The guard bowed, and scurried out of the room.

“Irileth, you’d better gather some guardsmen and get down there.”

“I’ve already ordered my men to muster near the main gate,” she replied with a touch of smugness in her tone.

“Good. Don’t fail me.” Finally, Balgruuf turned to Valkari. “There’s no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here.”

“I’m starting to see a pattern here,” she sighed. “Throw in something shiny for me to come back to, and it’ll motivate me not to die.”

He nodded. “I can promise you that. And I have a reward ready for when you return, for the work you did in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. I have not forgotten your service, after all.”

It sounded good to her. Provided she didn’t get burned to death, she’d have twice the reward awaiting her when she returned from the Western Watchtower. And the thought of a fat coin purse was a happy one, at least.

Irileth and the guards were all waiting by the main gate for Valkari, and so far only she and Valkari seemed to be at all calm. The guards were fidgeting nervously, glancing between one another.

“Here’s the situation,” Irileth began, as she paced before the guards. “There’s a dragon attacking Western Watchtower. You heard right, a dragon! I don’t much care where it came from, or who sent it. What I do know is that it’s made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!”

“But Housecarl… How are we supposed to fight a dragon?” one of them lamented.

“That’s a fair question. None of us have even seen a dragon, or expected to fight one. But we are honour-bound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes, our families! Could you call yourself nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?”

Her words had roused something in the guards, as they all let out warlike cries, banging their weapons on their shields.

“But it’s more than our honour at stake here,” Irileth continued, a gleam in her scarlet eyes. “Think about it – the first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age. The glory of killing it is ours, if you’re with me. Now, what say you? Shall we go kill us a dragon?”

There was another war cry, and they followed Irileth out of the gates. Valkari couldn’t help but think their bravado was a waste. If they’d seen all those arrows and spells bouncing off that black dragon’s hide, like it was impervious to any form of attack, they’d be smart to run the other way.

[S]

The watchtower was little more than a ruin by the time they arrived. The surrounding plains were aflame and scorched, the top half of the tower having been completely decimated and the blood smeared across the rubble told a gruesome tale. If the dragon hadn’t attacked when that guard came to warn the city, it had since he had left.

Valkari kept her bow readied, but even she couldn’t help but wonder what good it would do. A good number of Legionnaires hadn’t been able to kill the dragon that had attacked Helgen. What could they possibly do if it was the same one?

Irileth ordered a search of the area for any survivors, but everyone kept glancing up to the sky nervously. There was no sign of the dragon right now, but he could surely return at any moment. The mountains weren’t all that far, he could easily swoop down at any moment and be on them in seconds. But as they picked at the bones of the ruins, finding only blackened bones, a guardsman appeared at the entrance to the tower, waving his arms frightfully.

“No! Get back! The dragon, it’s still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!” He shouted, his eyes wild with fear. Suddenly, he turned to the mountains and what little colour remained in his face drained away. “Kynareth save us, here he comes again!”

A dark shape flew out from the shadows of the mountain. It was as big as a house, and faster than any creature Valkari had ever seen. It swooped low, and she darted under cover as screams filled her ears. She looked up just in time to see the guard from the tower sail through the air, and crash to the ground. There was no way he had survived that.

“Find cover and make every arrow count!” Irileth roared.

But the dragon was fast, and their arrows simply bounced off of its scaly hide if they ever hit it at all. A stream of fire sent the plains up in flames once more. 

“We need him on the ground!” one of the guards yelled in her direction, holding his own bow ready.

“And I’m supposed to make him land? Oh, of course I am,” Valkari yelled back. 

The dragon swooped past again, kicking up ash and dirt as it did so. Valkari groped around in her pack for something that might work. But she’d lost most of her gear to the Imperials, and all she had was what was what she had picked up since Helgen. All she had was a vial of kindlepitch.

“Anyone have any suggestions?” yelled another guard. Then there was a scream as the dragon grabbed someone else, dropping the poor man from well over a hundred feet. There was definitely no way he was going to survive that, and sure enough he hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Valkari looked at the vial in her hand and an idea quickly took shape. She wasn’t sure if it would even work. Were dragons even vulnerable to kindlepitch?

Another stream of fire erupted from overhead, skimming Valkari by mere inches. She could feel the flames dancing in front of her, and she scrambled to another spot of cover, fumbling with the vial’s stopper. 

Popping the cork, Valkari coated her arrowhead. The dust clung to the metal and she pocketed the empty vial before straightening up again. The dragon had stopped to hover again, shooting another ball of flames at some guards taking cover beneath a rocky outcrop.

She took aim and fired.

The dragon roared in anguish as the arrow pierced its eye and the kindlepitch exploded on contact. Blood began to pour out of its ruined eyeball, streaming down its snout. The dragon shook its head back and forth as it dropped lower and lower, finally landing. It rubbed its great ugly head across the ground, trying to get rid of the arrow. Undoubtedly it was in a huge amount of pain.

Without any hesitation, Valkari too her chance, ran in, unsheathed the Nightingale blade and rammed the blade right through the dragon’s eye, into its brain.

“Dovahkiin, no!” a deep, rumbling voice screamed and Valkari could have sworn that it had been the dragon that had said it. With a final quake, the dragon collapse dead and she tore her blade free from its skull. Now she was up close and no longer trying to avoid death, she could see it wasn’t the same dragon as the one that destroyed Helgen. This dragon was smaller, and was silvery-grey in colour rather than jet black. It was also quite dead, which was good enough for her.

But there was no time to celebrate.

“Get back, all of you!” yelled Irileth as the dragon began to  _ burn _ ! It was like the entire beast was being devoured by light and flames as its scales and flesh dissolved. But that wasn’t the end of it – tendrils of light burst free from the dragon and were flew straight at Valkari.

She stumbled backwards hastily, tripping over an exposed tree root as she was engulfed by the light, something hot flowing through her veins and coiling tightly around her mind. Power, knowledge, and something more poured into her, flooding her senses, nearly overwhelming as the dragon’s very being merged with her own. And then, just like that, it was over. The light faded, and the heat slowly faded, as did the pressure on her head as whatever was there now settled.

Slowly, she got to her feet and tried to steady herself, whilst trying to process what had just happened.

“You… You are Dragonborn.”

Valkari’s head shot up, looking at the breathless guard before her. He was filthy with muck and blood, yet it did nothing to detract from the look of awe on his face. But Valkari was more focused on what he had just called her.

“Dragonborn? What are you talking about?” asked another guard, looking at her curiously.

“In the very oldest tales, back from when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power,” explained the guard, before turning back to her. “That’s what you just did, isn’t it? Absorbed the dragon’s power?”

She was still bewildered. She’d not felt power like that since she had drank from the Ebonmere ten years ago, and even then that had been a very different sensation. This was something different, not of Oblivion.

“I… I don’t know,” Valkari muttered. Of course she knew the legends and tales as any other nord did. They were a staple for all children in Skyrim, and the Dragonborn was an integral part of nordic culture. But her…? No, that couldn’t be right. It had to be a mistake, or something else altogether.

“There’s only one way to find out. Try to Shout, that should prove it,” said another of the guards, folding his arms. “According to the old tales, only the Dragonborn can Shout as the dragons do without any training.”

“That’s right!” interjected a much younger recruit. “My grandfather used to tell stories of the Dragonborn! Those born with the dragon’s blood in them, like ol’ Tiber Septim himself!”

“I never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons.”

“That’s because there weren’t any dragons back then, idiot. They’re just coming back now for the first time in… Forever!”

“But the old tales tell of the Dragonborn who would slay dragons and steal their power! She must be the one!”

They were all debating excitedly, but Valkari was already walking away. There was no way. No, it wasn’t possible. She’d heard the stories enough times to know that the Dragonborn were all heroes, and she knew for a fact that there was no way that that could be her.

She heard the guards shouting, but more at each other in hot debate about the dragon rather than trying to call her back. Of course they’d forget about it quickly enough. They’d helped kill a dragon, and that would be more than enough for their tavern stories tonight.

But halfway back to Whiterun, just as the sun was setting the air began to shake, and a booming roar from the heavens echoed across the landscape, shouting one word.

_ ‘DOVAKIIN!’ _

Valkari stared up at the darkening sky as twilight arrived, the sun setting on the horizon. The sky was relatively clear. She hadn’t just misheard a clap of thunder somehow. And it only made her feel more and more unnerved.

[S]

Proventus was waiting for Valkari at the entrance to Dragonsreach. Night had truly fallen by the time she arrived and the guards were on edge, constantly throwing nervous glances at the sky. Looking out for more dragons, or worried about the voices from the sky?

“Oh good, you’re finally here!” sighed Proventus, daubing his forehead. “The Jarl’s been waiting for you.”

He steered her inside, taking no account for the soot covering her armour. Balgruuf was waiting anxiously atop the dais, pacing until he saw them approaching.

“So what happened at the watchtower?” He asked. “Was the dragon there?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s dead,” Valkari replied, just wanting to find a good bed and fall asleep in it. “Now, there was something about a reward…”

“I knew I could count on Irileth!” Balgruuf exclaimed in delight, ignoring her. “But there must be more to it than that…”

“When the dragon died…” Valkari hesitated, before opening what she knew to be a floodgate. “I… absorbed some sort of power from it.”

A deathly silence fell over the hall as every eye focused on her in hushed awe until Balgruuf finally broke the silence.

“So it’s true… The Greybeards really were summoning you.”

She swallowed hard.

The Greybeards were an ancient order who lived in seclusion atop the highest peak in Skyrim, in the monastery of High Hrothgar. No one had actually seen them, or at least no one who hadn’t been invited to the monastery personally. They practiced the Way of the Voice, talking to the sky or something like that. And now they wanted her? No. It couldn’t be.

“The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice – the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu’um, or Shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you to use your gift.”

Valkari opened her mouth to protest, but the Jarl’s brother cut over her: “Didn’t you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun? That was the Voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn’t happened in… Centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!”

“But I-“

“Hrongar, calm yourself!” interrupted Proventus. “What does any of this nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be, I don’t see any signs of her being this, what, ‘Dragonborn’.”

“Thank you!” she cried, but it was drowned out by Hrongar.

“Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed-up, ignorant-! These are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!” he snarled, reaching for his axe.

Balgruuf held up a hand. “Hrongar, don’t be so hard on Avenicci,” he said with a warning tone.

“I meant no disrespect, of course. It’s just that… What do these Greybeards want with her?”

Nothing. It had to be wrong. It had to be someone, anyone but her. It had to be a mistake.

Balgruuf shook his head. “That’s the Greybeards’ business. Not ours. Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you’re Dragonborn, who are we to argue?”

“Can we discuss the possibility that maybe it’s not me?” Valkari muttered, though no one heard her.

“You’d better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There’s no refusing a summons from the Greybeards. It’s a tremendous honour!”

There were a number of places Valkari could suggest where they could stick their honour. All she cared about was hopping in the first carriage back to Riften. As soon as she had her pay, of course. But now Balgruuf was rambling about the 7,000 Thousand Steps, an old pilgrimage some took up the Throat of the World.

“I believe we discussed a reward before I left,” Valkari said loudly, crossing her arms impatiently. The sooner she was paid, the sooner she could leave.

But Balgruuf had other ideas of what a reward was. “You have done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It’s the highest honour that’s within my power to give.”

Her heart dropped like a stone into the pit of her stomach. “What? No, really I’d prefer-“

“Lydia!” He called, and seconds later a young woman with dark hair and dressed in steel armour sprinted over, bowing deeply. “I assign you Lydia as your personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armoury to serve as your badge of honour. Furthermore!” He pressed on, ignoring every protest Valkari tried to shout. “I grant you Breezehome as your own personal residence here in the city. I’ll also notify my guards to your new title. Wouldn’t want them thinking you’re a part of the common rabble, now would we?”

He laughed, though Valkari would much rather be seen as part of the rabble. In the rabble, you were just another face and invisible. Thanes were well known, and that was the last thing she wanted. But in a matter of moments, she found Hrongar dropping a great, two-handed axe into her arms. Her knees buckled beneath the weight of it, and it wasn’t long before it slid out of her arms entirely. Lydia dived forward and caught it, hoisting it over her shoulder like it was a twig.

“Perhaps I should hold this?”

Valkari ignored her, turning back to Balgruuf.

“This really isn’t necessary-“

“Of course it is,” boomed Balgruuf. “We are honoured to have you as Thane to our city, Dragonborn. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to which I must attend.”

And just like that, he got up and left before she could argue. Completely in shock, and flustered by the whole exchange, she stormed out of the hall without a second thought.

Thane indeed. She was  _ definitely  _ going to kill Delvin for this.

[]

“My Thane-“

“I am not your Thane,” Valkari snapped angrily as she hurried through the back alleys of Whiterun, avoiding every guard she came across. By dawn the news would be out, and she wanted to be out of the hold long before then.

“But the Jarl-“

“Fuck the Jarl!” Valkari stopped and turned on Lydia. “I don’t need to be a Thane, I don’t need some stupid axe, and I certainly don’t need a Housecarl. Find someone else. All I wanted was to get paid, and this is most certainly  _ not  _ what I had in mind.”

Lydia stared at her, stunned.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go home and forget any of this ever happened. Keep the axe, I don’t care how good a price I could get for it. It’s not worth the trouble.”

And she marched off, leaving Lydia standing there in the dark alleyway as Valkari headed for the stables. There was only one carriage left, and a couple of seats were already occupied, but it was no real trouble.

“Riften,” she muttered, shoving the coin into the driver’s hand. He nodded and once it seemed certain no one else was coming, he stirred the horse into a trot, and they trundled off. Valkari curled up in the corner, pulling her cloak around herself.

This day could not have gone any worse.

She was going to  _ kill  _ Delvin.


	4. Resolution

A blizzard had forced the carriage to lay over in Windhelm for the time being, as the roads to Riften were too treacherous at the moment. The driver promised he'd take Valkari to Riften in the morning once the storm had passed, but for now she'd have to wait it out. It was frustrating, but perhaps she could get some work done whilst she was there. She had to make up for her losses from this whole mess, and it'd help to have something cover up for the failed job in Darkwater Crossing.

And recently she'd heard that there was currently a house belonging to the Aretino family which was currently unoccupied due to the passing of the woman who lived there. Her son had been sent to Honourhall (the poor lad), and the house had been empty ever since, waiting for the day the boy came of age. There'd been rumours of strange chanting coming from inside, but Valkari wasn’t really one for tales of haunted houses. She'd seen worse, and it'd be worth the risk if she found something good inside.

So whilst it was dark, she crept up to the big house and proceeded to pick the lock. She slipped inside, shutting the door behind her, before proceeding up the stairs. It was even darker inside, but she could see even now that someone had been living here recently, if the half eaten bread and leg of lamb were anything to go by. And sure enough, she heard it.

"Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptised in blood and fear," a small, tired voice chanted. Valkari readied her bow, but she had a sneaking suspicion as to who the voice belonged to. "How long must I do this? I keep praying to you Night Mother, why won't you answer? …Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptised in blood and fear… Sweet mother, sweet mother…"

In the hallway leading off from the main room, a door stood ajar and flickering candlelight came from within. Valkari peered in through the crack, and inside with his back to her had to be the Aretino boy, Aventus. Laid out before him was a skeleton, complete with human flesh and a heart, surrounded by candles in a rough circle. To his right, there lay a book and a crumpled Nightshade flower.

The Black Sacrament. What was a little boy doing trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood?

Valkari pushed the door open, and it creaked, catching his attention. Instantly, Aventus looked up and his face split into a grin. It wasn't too surprising - with how she was dressed, it was easy enough to believe she might have been the person he was looking for.

"Aha, I knew you would come I just knew it!" He cried, scrambling to his feet, looking up at her with round grey eyes. "I did the Black Sacrament over, and over with the body and the… Things… And you came, an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

Valkari shook her head ruefully. "I'm afraid I'm not who you think I am."

"Of course you are! I prayed, and you came! And now you'll accept my contract!" He said brightly, as though this was something all little boys thought about. But who could this boy possibly want dead?

"Contract?"

"My mother… She died. I'm all alone now. They sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honourhall." He spat the name with disgust and Valkari couldn't help but soften towards the boy – she knew exactly what he meant. "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her-"

"Grelod the Kind," she finished. "You don't have to tell me about her for me to understand."

Aventus cocked his head to one side and Valkari knelt down. "I had a friend once, a long time ago, in Honourhall Orphanage. I saw what she did to him. I know what she's capable of."

"You do?" He asked in a quiet voice.

She nodded.

"Look boy. I'm no assassin, and I don't usually condone murder for the sake of it. But Grelod… She's a special case," Valkari confessed. "I'll see to it that she's dealt with."

His face lit up. "You will? Really?"

She smiled and ruffled his hair. "Really. Just sit tight, and I'll take care of it when I get back to Riften."

Aventus beamed and nodded. She straightened up and looked at the effigy on the floor.

"On one condition." His smile wavered a little, but Valkari simply pointed to the effigy he’d arranged on the floor. "I want this mess cleaned up by the time I get back, deal?"

He grinned. "Deal."

[]

Valkari ought to have reported into the guild right away when she got back to Riften, but she was so consumed with the idea of putting an end to Grelod that she headed straight for the orphanage.

It was a large wooden building, and it was as utterly depressing as ever. 'Honourhall' was wrought in iron over the door, and the windows were dark and grimy, as they had been on that snowy morning eighteen years ago. Valkari never thought she'd willingly walk back into this place ever again, not after all the trouble she'd gone through to get away from it.

Even from the entrance hall, she could hear the hag lecturing the children. It was like listening to nails on a chalkboard.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating!" She snapped. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Grelod," the children chorused miserably. Valkari peered around the corner into the dormitory. There were about six children, and all but one of them were boys. In the corner was Constance Michelle, once an orphan herself and now taking Jayne's place as Grelod's assistant. She'd always been a big mouth, but she was perhaps the only person the children had who might show them a bit of kindness.

"Good. And I will hear no more talk of adoptions. None of you brats are getting adopted, ever. Nobody needs you. Nobody wants you. And you'll be here until the day you come of age and are thrown into that wide, horrible world! Now, what do you all say?!"

"We love you Grelod, thank you for the kindness," the children replied hurriedly in frightened voices.

Valkari felt a surge of fury coursing through her at Grelod’s words and, rather recklessly, she stood up and strode into the room. Grelod turned her nasty little eyes on her as the children leapt out of the way in fear.

"Who do you think you are, barging in here?!" Grelod shrieked. "Riff raff, that's all you Riften people are!"

"You might want to try being a bit more polite," Valkari said coolly. "You see, I met a little boy. Name was Aventus Aretino. He asked for a favour, and I'm here to deliver."

It happened in the space of a heartbeat. She drew her bow and shot Grelod right between the eyes. The old crone's eyes bulged, her face transfixed with fury as she fell backwards in an arc, finally hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Suddenly, it felt like eighteen years of resentment and hatred had finally been satisfied now Grelod was lying dead on the floor. Finally she got some payback for all those beatings and death threats.

But then Valkari remembered that she wasn't the only person in the room. The children were staring for a moment, before the girl inched forwards and nudged the crone with her toe. When Grelod didn't stir, her face split into a grin.

"She's dead! Aventus did it!" she cried, giggling in absolute delight.

Soon the room erupted into cheers and whoops, as the children revelled in the death of their tormentor.

"Yay! Grelod the Kind is dead at last!"

"We love you Dark Brotherhood!"

"Aventus actually did it!"

But then the cheer and joy was shattered by a long and petrified scream and Valkari sighed heavily, turning to the source.

"Hullo Constance," she said tiredly.

"You! You killed her!" She shrieked, trembling like a leaf as she pointed wildly at her, her eyes the size of saucers.

"That was the idea," Valkari replied dryly. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"How could you?!"

"That old crone never had a heart, Constance, she kept herself alive out of pure spite," she shot back loudly. "And are you honestly telling me you forgot the times she locked you in the cupboard just for chewing with your mouth open?"

"So you get to decide who lives and dies?!" Constance demanded, now utterly hysterical. "I should-! No, just leave! Leave us alone! GO!"

Valkari shrugged and did as she told. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the children pressing their faces to the window to watch as she left. As much as she disliked Constance, she'd be a far better guardian for those children and Valkari had no doubts their lives would improve greatly under her care.

But she was hardly halfway across the market when a voice shouted. Valkari looked around to see the girl from the orphanage running towards her. She had scraggly waist-length blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. She was also incredibly skinny, and even now Valkari could see an ugly, faded welt on her cheek and that her clothes looked to be far too big, making her look smaller than she really was. She also wasn't wearing any shoes either.

"Something wrong?" she asked, kneeling down to the girl’s level level.

Her face was fixed with fierce determination. Valkari guessed she was about eight, if that.

"I want to go with you," she said, puffing out her chest.

Valkari blinked in surprise. That wasn't what she had been expecting. She tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow. "What, like adopt you?"

The girl nodded. "I hate it at the orphanage, even without Grelod. I don't want to be there. I want to learn to fight, and you just killed Grelod. And you're strong, you must know how to fight!"

Ah, so that was it. Valkari shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not the sort of person-"

"Please!" Valkari paused and the girl took a deep breath. "I'm smart, I'm quick, and I'm strong. The boys always bully me because I'm the only girl, and they make me do all of the chores. But that means I can do things that they can't! I swear, I won't be a bother, and I won't get in your way. Ever! Please, take me with you!"

"Do you really think it's worth it?"

She nodded vigorously. "I can get my own food, and I can clean too. I swear, I won't be a bother. Please?"

Her mind was absolutely set. She knew what she was asking, and she was certain she wanted it.

"Why do you want to learn to fight? Couldn't Mjoll teach you?"

Mjoll the Lioness had been a pain in Valkari’s arse since she became a part of the Thieves Guild, but she was a warrior of impressive calibre. Surely she made a much more fitting specimen of a fighter than Valkari did?

But the girl shook her head. "Mjoll can fight bears and things, but I don't want to fight them." She hesitated. "When I was little, vampires killed my parents. So I want to kill vampires, but getting close to them is dangerous. I've seen you in the city before – you're fast, you're strong and you can shoot. I want to learn how to do that so I can use it on vampires."

Again, something Valkari didn't expect to hear. And it was about revenge… Valkari supposed she could understand where she was coming from, considering her own past. Damn it, if she wasn't seeing more and more of herself in this girl then Molag Bal was the Daedric Prince of Butterflies. And she had the room, she supposed.

After dealing with Mercer, Maven had gifted Valkari with Honeyside Manor as a reward for her efforts. She tended to sleep there, seeing as the Cistern had become… Uncomfortable. Too many ties to Mercer, too many memories. She couldn't bring herself to sleep there anymore, so the house was a nice alternative. Better than trekking between Riften and Nightingale Hall anyway.

"What's your name?" Valkari asked.

"Runa Fair-Shield," she answered promptly.

"Okay Runa. Provided you behave yourself and don't get into too much trouble, you can come live with me."

Instantly, her face lit up and Valkari couldn't refuse the upwards tug of her lips.

"Really? Thank you Mama! I promise I'll be the best daughter ever!" And she proceeded to throw her arms around Valkari’s neck.

Mama? It gave her a surprisingly warm feeling, and she supposed she quite liked it. She hugged Runa back quickly, before straightening up and holding out a hand.

"I have to run back to Windhelm, but Iona can look after you until I get back."

Runa took my hand excitedly and was beaming from ear to ear, the entire way to Honeyside.

[S]

It quickly became apparent that Aventus was no longer hiding in his family home, as Valkari had not taken five steps into the city when she found myself being confronted with one of the guards.

"You haven't seen a young boy running about, have you? About ten years old, dark hair, imperial. He's a runaway from the Honourhall Orphanage and needs to be returned there immediately. Windhelm isn't a safe place for orphans to be running around," she said briskly.

"How come?"

"Dark times are upon us, messere. There is a killer on the loose; the Butcher, the locals have taken to calling him. Just a few weeks ago, one of the Shatter-Shield girls was murdered." She shuddered, shaking her head. "So far all of his victims have been young women. I'd suggest you not take your chances and remain indoors when the sun goes down, messere."

"Thanks for the warning."

The guard nodded and walked away.

Valkari wasn't too worried about this Butcher. It was nearly nightfall, but she wasn't an easy person to find. She should be fine. For now, she had to focus on tracking down Aventus, and there was someone in the city who knew everything. For the right price.

"Need I repeat myself? That is the highest I am willing to offer."

"Oh come on, you can give me more than that!"

Niranye was an altmer, and one of Valkari’s many fences around Skyrim. She'd been in the trade for many years now, longer than she cared to say, and she knew exactly how to drive a hard bargain. Fortunately, she owed Valkari more than a few favours. Unlike poor Etienne, the guild footpad who was unsuccessfully trying for more than his fair share.

"That is my final offer. Take it or leave is, Varnis," she hissed before glancing up. "Do make a decision quickly, I believe I do see a far more desirable client that you are holding up."

Etienne grumbled, and shoved the coin into his pockets and stomped away, pausing only to bow his head at Valkari as she passed.

"Ah, my old friend. It's been too long since you came to visit me, Val." She fluttered her eyelashes.

"I told you Niranye, I have no interest in getting you into bed," Valkari said shortly.

"Ah yes. You always were completely uninterested in such things. Now, what can I do for you today?"

"I'm looking for someone. A boy by the name of Aventus Aretino. I've heard he's on the run from the city guard."

Niranye quirked an eyebrow, but shrugged. "I don't know why you'd be interested in him, but I know better than to ask questions when you're involved. Last I heard, the boy was hiding down in the Grey Quarter. The dunmer have little love for humans, but if given the chance to stop the guards from getting something they want, they are happy to assist." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Thanks." A cough from the mer made Valkari sigh, and she reached into her pocket, placing a few gold coins on the counter. Niranye smiled, taking the coin and waved her away.

Valkari headed down to the Grey Quarter. Most nords usually avoided it, and she didn't much care to head down into the slum unless she was trying to avoid the guards. There was no sense in taking from these people, unless of course Vex sent her after a very specific item which was rare, seeing as they had so little. But she had a fairly good reputation with the dunmer given how often she traded with their merchants, and so long as she didn't make trouble, they didn't seem to mind her presence in the slum.

At worst she got the odd glance as she made her way through. Tonight she headed to the Corner Club, surely the place she could find more information on Aventus.

The dunmer at the bar snorted as Valkari stepped inside. It wasn't much to look at, provided you could see more than two feet in front of you through the heavy vapours in the air. The place smelled badly of smoke, alcohol, vomit and stale piss, and Valkari could swear she heard a dripping leak somewhere overhead.

"This is an elven bar, nord," the barman grunted.

"I'm not here to make trouble. I'm looking for Aventus Aretino."

The barkeep narrowed his eyes. "And why's that?"

"I was told I could find him down here in the Grey Quarter," she replied. "A bit odd, dunmer hiding a human boy from the guard."

"So?" He spat.

“Look, sooner or later, the guards _will_ come down here to look for him. And thanks to Ulfric and his Stormcloaks, when they do, they’ll assume it’s a hostage situation,” she reasoned. “You’ve got idiots like Rolff Stone-Fist accusing your people of being Imperial spies already, you don’t need to give them this kind of fire against you. But if you give him to me, this goes away before it becomes a problem.”

He held his glare a moment longer, then slammed down the glass he was wiping and shuffled off into the back room. He returned a moment later, dragging Aventus behind him by the arm.

"Let go of me! You said-!"

Aventus' eyes fell on Valkari, and he promptly forgot his struggle.

"You're back!" he cried. The barkeep dropped the boy's arm, and Aventus hurried over. "Grelod the Kind… Is she…?"

Valkari nodded, a wry smile on her lips. Aventus breathed a sigh of relief, beaming. She nodded my head over to the door.

"Let's go. I think we've worn out our welcome," she noted, glancing at the barkeep who merely jerked his head as he resumed wiping the glass. She pulled out a handful of coins and placed them on the counter. “Thanks.”

He simply grunted and said nothing as they left.

Back outside, it was dark as the sun vanished below the horizon and the two moons slowly began to rise. It was time to go back home, it seemed. Aventus certainly didn't argue about returning to Riften. If anything he seemed pleased to go back and see his friends. Even little runaway boys got lonely it seemed.

But no sooner than they were out of the Grey Quarter, a blood curdling scream tore through the night air.


	5. The Work of a Butcher

In a rather split-second decision, Valkari sprinted in the direction of the scream, bow at the ready as Aventus ran to keep up. She leapt a staircase, and rounded the corner into the graveyard, just as snowflakes began to flutter down from the sky. At the far end of the graveyard, lying across a tomb stone, was a bloody mess that looked to have once been a young woman.

Valkari heard hurried footsteps behind her and only just slammed Aventus against the wall in time before he could catch sight of the grizzly scene.

“Don’t,” she breathed, blocking the graveyard from view. “You don’t want to see this.”

He looked pale and frightened, but nodded regardless. He remained around the corner shivering, as Valkari crept down the steps to investigate.

She recognised the woman from the Candlehearth Hall. One of the waitresses as well as a talented bard, not to mention undeniably good looking. Her clothes had been torn off, there were dark bruises around her throat, and her body was cut open from her left shoulder to her right hip, exposing her mutilated innards. The body was still warm and her face was transfixed in a look of fear. She was not long dead at all. But lying on the ground beside her, untouched and seemingly forgotten, was a coin purse. Valkari weighed it in her hand. It was full. Whoever had done this hadn’t been looking for coin then. Then why?

“Stop right there!”

Valkari looked around just as a guard stormed across the graveyard, weapons drawn, shortly followed by a beggar, a priest and a shopkeeper. Shit. She straightened up, slipping the purse into her pocket. It wasn’t going to do this poor girl any good anymore.

“This isn’t how it looks, I’m afraid,” Valkari said coolly. “I found her like this.”

“A likely story,” snapped the guard, but it was the priest who interrupted.

“Put that away, before you hurt somebody,” she barked, shuffling over to inspect the corpse. “You really think she could have killed this woman without getting a speck of blood on her?”

“I- Well, it just-!” the guard spluttered.

But the priest paid him no mind as she bent over the body. “Hm, yes. She was strangled first, and by someone much taller. Look at how the finger marks curve down rather than up.” She threw Valkari a smirk and snorted. “If you really think that this shorty really pulled this off, then you Stormcloaks are more useless than I thought.”

“I… Very well,” coughed the guard. “If you’d kindly step back, we need to investigate the crime scene.”

“Anything I can do?” Valkari asked, glancing at the corpse. If she had been in the wrong place tonight, that could have been her.

The guard gestured to the onlookers. “If you could ask if they saw anything, then the Windhelm guard would be in your debt.”

As it so happened, they’d seen no more than she had. They’d heard the screaming and came running – only the shopkeeper seemed to have glanced the culprit, but could make nothing out other than the fact it appeared to be a man running away. Valkari reported back to the guard, who seemed simply exasperated.

“As usual, no one saw anything useful,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“There might be more, if you’d be willing to let me look into this,” Valkari said as more guards arrived to carry away the body to the Hall of the Dead.

“I’m sorry, but you’d need permission from the steward. You wanna help, you go talk to Jorleif up in the Palace. Watch the skies traveller. Things are only going to get worse.”

He could say that again. But if Valkari could catch the Butcher, she could quickly make up for her losses in Whiterun before returning to Riften. Sure it was risking her neck, but she’d killed a dragon. How difficult could it be to deal with one killer?

[S]

Valkari left Aventus in the Candlehearth Hall, where she tucked him into bed for the night before heading for the Palace of the Kings to find Jorleif. It was late, but with the war, a lot of the Palace’s residents couldn’t afford sleep. The steward was sitting at the long table set down the centre of the room, and sat in his throne at the far end of the hall was Ulfric. It seemed he had safely escaped Helgen after all. Since her own escape, she was a little behind on current events.

Ulfric glanced over at Valkari as she entered, but turned his attention away when one of his generals entered the room to discuss the war. It didn’t matter to her, he wasn’t the one she was looking for.

Jorleif looked up from his meal when Valkari stopped beside him.

“The Jarl isn’t open for an audience at the moment. But I am happy to address any concerns you might have, mi’lady,” he said, setting his meal to one side and turning to face her properly.

“I was told you were the man to talk to about these murders.”

“Aye, I just heard about Susanna,” he said grimly. “Served me a drink the other night at Candlehearth Hall. But with the war and the dragons, we’ve not been able to spare the men to deal with it. If you could help in anyway, I’d be pleased to offer my assistance.”

“And gold, I hope.”

He nodded. “Of course, mi’lady. Just tell the guards you have my permission to investigate the matter. Maybe you’ll have more luck than we have.”

Considering how thick the lot of the Stormcloaks seemed to be, and with Nocturnal on her side, that wasn’t hard to believe.

[S]

The guard had pointed out a trail of blood leading away from the crime scene, seeming all too pleased to see that someone was finally looking into the case. The blood splatters lead up to a large, uninhabited manor house – Hjerim. It had belonged to Friga Shatter-Shield, the woman who had been murdered before Susanna. And predictably, the door was locked tight. Not a problem. Valkari pulled out her lockpicks and within minutes, she pried the door open.

Inside the house was dark and eerily silent. The furniture was overturned and stacked oddly against the walls, like someone had cleared it out of the way in a hurry. Bottles of mead scattered across the floor, though all of them were empty. Cobwebs stretched down from the rafters and a few rats scurried out of sight as she stepped inside. It might have looked like no one had lived there for months, if not for the footprints in the dust and the trail of fresh blood that was splattered across the floorboards. It lead deeper into the house and Valkari readied her bow. Someone had been here, and very recently. They might even still be there.

She tiptoed through the house, all too aware of every creak and moan of wind. She kept expecting to catch sight of a shadow slipping around a bend and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.

At the back of the house, she found a tiny drawing room that was near empty. All that was inside was a pair of cabinets and a desk tucked into the corner. Stuffed hastily into the shelves of the desk were stacks of sheets of parchment. Valkari tugged one out, and the rest promptly cascaded to the ground. She sighed, shaking her head before unfolding the one in her hand.

_Beware the Butcher! The killer who haunts the streets of Windhelm!_

_These calamitous times bring out the worst in people, don’t become the next victim!_

_See Viola Giordano if you spot any suspicious behaviour._

She inspected the other sheets, and found they were identical. Why would anyone be taking down these warning posters, unless they didn’t want to be caught? It seemed she was certainly on the right track, but there had to be more somewhere in here.

A glint of green caught her eye in the back of the shelf. It was an amulet with a worn carving set into a ring, inlaid with several gems. She’d not seen anything quite like it, and it was clearly old. How odd. She’d have to take it to Niranye in the morning, and see what she made of it.

Pocketing the amulet, Valkari straightened up and turned to the cabinets. If she’d learned anything in her years as a thief, it was that nothing was what it seemed at first glance. The first she inspected was perfectly ordinary, filled with shoes and random assortments of clothing. But the second seemed empty, and was nailed straight to the wall.

Valkari smirked and pushed the back panel inside the cabinet, and it shifted. Bingo.

On the other side, she found yet another room, but this one was unlike the others. It was a scene from one of those horror stories that Delvin enjoyed reading.

Buckets filled with bloodied skulls and bones were stacked on the floor, countless bottles of blood were set on the shelves of a nearby bookcase, and linen wraps concealing countless strips of flesh and muscle were laid out on a table alongside old, redguard style embalming tools. And the centerpiece of the room was a grizzly altar. Runes had been painted across the surface, and a mishmash of bones and flesh were laid out in what appeared to be the basis of a human body. Jars of preserving oils sat on the floor, and beside them was a small red journal. Valkari grabbed it from the floor and flicked it open.

_17 tendons and assorted ligaments_

_173 fragments of bone for assemblage_

_Approx.. 4 bucket-fulls of blood (nord preferred)_

_6 spoons of marrow (no more than 2 from a thigh)_

_12 yards of flesh (before cutting)_

_Star-scrying to the edge of the ice-mind_

_Looks to the lights where the souls dance_

_Revealing the time when a spark will revive_

_When the rotted united under most skilful hands_

_(translation from Aldmer text, as interpreted by the Ayleids and first transcribed by Altmer. Provenance and authority unknown.)_

_soon_

Valkari was no mage, but she knew what the text was describing. Necromancy. This was more than just a simple string of murders. This was some sort of ritual, and no doubt Susanna wasn’t this ‘Butcher’s’ last victim.

Daylight was creeping across the floor through the tiny window above the altar. The killer would likely make his next kill when night fell again, so she had all day to figure out who they were. There was no name in the journal, but perhaps Niranye could tell her more about the amulet. It was her area of expertise after all.

[]

As it so happened, Niranye didn’t recognise the amulet but she was able to point Valkari in the direction of Calixto, a local collector of all sorts of bizarre objects and trinkets. It was as good a bet as any he might know something about this thing.

She stepped into Calixto’s House of Curiosities to find it quite empty of the man himself. But his house was indeed brimming with curiosities.

Gems of every colour were hovering in a space on a nearby bookshelf, emitting a small musical hum. A large bird was sitting in a cage hanging precariously from the ceiling, its tail feathers having been decorated with beads and coloured string. Glass instruments were puffing away on the desk, emitting a small tinkling sound as they went. A heavy tome sat open beside them, its pages completely empty. A red jewel that looked to have been previously shattered into a thousand pieces had been painstakingly reassembled and sat in a locked glass case. It looked like it might have been worth a fortune, had it not been broken.

“Ah yes, the Amulet of Kings.”

Valkari leapt out of her skin when she found Calixto standing right at her shoulder, having appeared so suddenly he might have sprouted out of the ground. He was an imperial man with a pinched face that was heavily lined, and his hair was greying. He also didn’t seem to blink, which was a little creepy.

“One of the most difficult of my curiosities to obtain, but very much worth the effort. It is said that the High Chancellor Ocato had the pieces retrieved after the Amulet was shattered by Martin Septim and the Champion of Cyrodiil, and placed in a hidden vault. History tells us that it was the Grey Fox that stole the shards, and the Elder Council was never able to recover them. I came across the Amulet in my travels, many years ago, when I was still a young man. It was difficult to obtain all of the pieces, but even so, well worth it.”

He chuckled and strolled away, whistling. Valkari frowned. Somehow she couldn’t help but doubt that this amulet was the genuine article, but that wasn’t what she was here. She pulled out the Amulet she’d recovered from Hjerim.

“I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about this amulet.”

Calixto turned back to her and took it in his hands, running a finger over the carving. He turned away quickly, pulling a book down from the nearby shelf and muttering to himself quietly.

“Ah, here it is. This is the Wheelstone. It’s an heirloom symbol of power in Windhelm. Traditionally it’s carried by the Court Mage. I would… er… be interested in acquiring it. If you’re willing to part with it, that is.”

“How much are you willing to offer?”

“Would five hundred septims suffice?”

“For an heirloom symbol of power in Windhelm? One thousand, and no lower,” I said tersely. “Or should I return it to the Court Wizard?”

“Wuunferth has no need for the amulet, it’s purely ceremonial,” Calixto barked. Was it just her, or was he sweating slightly? “I’d return it myself, but I wouldn’t dare go to him. Gives me the creeps. I hear he dabbles in necromancy,” he said in a hushed voice, glancing from side to side as though worried that the wizard might pop out of the ground.

Well that was interesting. But Valkari wasn’t about to get underpaid and she simply crossed her arms and glared.

Calixto sighed and rummaged around in an old teller on the desk, counting out the coins. Once she counted them out for herself, she poured them into her coin purse and Calixto pocketed the amulet, bowing his head.

“This will be a wonderful addition to my private collection,” he said. “Good day, mi’lady.”

Valkari wasted no time in heading for the Palace of the Kings. She could inform Jorleif, or she could deal with the Court Wizard personally. Given her past with miscommunications and false accusations, she chose the latter. If Wuunferth proved guilty, she’d finish him herself. If not, she’d dig a little deeper if she had to. She’d seen the damage a misconception could do, and she wasn’t about to repeat the mistakes of the past.

Valkari slipped past the guards with ease, and went completely undetected as she entered the wizard’s laboratory. Wuunferth was bent over his notes, his crooked nose touching the parchment. He looked up when she entered the room.

“What do you want?” He grunted. “Did Ulfric send you? He usually comes himself.”

“I hear you dabble in necromancy,” Valkari remarked coolly, leaning against the doorframe.

“I beg your pardon?! Necromancy?!” he barked, incensed by the accusation. “I am a member of the College of Winterhold! In good standing! They haven’t allowed necromancy for hundreds of years!”

“I found your amulet and your journal in the killer’s lair,” she retorted, a hand resting on the handle of her sword. “Care to explain that?”

“My, what? I assure you, I’ve never kept a journal,” he huffed, before scratching his chin. “What exactly did this amulet look like?”

“Eight-sided. Jade. Ringed with ebony, and a worn carving,” she replied.

“I know it well. Or at least, I’ve heard of it. I’d wager that that carving once depicted a skull. That is the Necromancer’s Amulet, of legend. It appears you were at least half-right. There is necromancy at the heart of this.”

“I guess Calixto was wrong then. So now what?”

“Hm, Calixto and his books are often confused about such things,” sighed Wuunferth, shaking his head. “I’ve been noting a pattern to when the killings happen. Now that we know they’re tied into some Necromantic Ritual, I think I know when the next might occur.”

Valkari handed over the journal. “His notes are here. It was an Aldmer ritual technique.”

Wuunferth took the journal in his withered hands and flicked it open, nodding as he read. “Yes, yes. I see.” He turned back to his notes, which Valkari realised were detailed reports of each of the murders that had been delivered straight from the Hall of the Dead. “From a Loredas of Last Seed to a Middas of Heartfire… It will happen soon. Very soon.”

“How soon are we talking here?” she asked, peering over his shoulder.

Wuunferth looked over at her sharply. “Keep watch in the Stone Quarter tonight. That’s almost certainly where the killer will strike next!”

[]

Valkari returned to Candlehearth Hall where Aventus was just waking up. He seemed relieved that she had returned in one piece, but was still somewhat shaken by the events of the previous night. She declined from telling him what she had found, but assured him that she would be dealing with the killer soon enough.

They remained in the inn for the rest of the day, Aventus all too happy listening to an old sea captain by the fire as he told his stories, whilst Valkari was content to focus on her plan for the night in a dark corner.

The Stone Quarter was a big area of the city, and trying to stake it out all night was not going to be easy. And for every place she could hide, there was a place the Butcher could hide as well. And given that she seemed to fit his choice in victims, going out there was going to be risky. There wouldn’t be many guards to back her up, considering how thinly spread they were, so it’d be up to her to hold her own against the Butcher.

She had plenty of arrows tipped with Karliah’s paralytic poison, ready to be used. Killing the Butcher would be too easy. It was up to Ulfric to decide what was done with him, and the moment she had her gold she could head back to Riften with Aventus.

Soon enough night was falling once more. Valkari saw Aventus back to bed before heading out into the cold.

She made her way over to the Stone Quarter, where the merchants were still packing up their goods, none of them caring to stay longer than necessary. Valkari slipped into an alley way as they all left one by one, carting away their merchandise until the market was quite left quite empty. And so began her vigil.

She crept along the rows of empty stalls, having to resist the urge to see if there was anything of value left behind. She had to watch herself out here. This Butcher could attack at any moment, and she had no intentions of being his next victim.

The hours crawled by slowly. It was hard to keep track of the time, given that the clouds were blocking out the moons. It began to snow after a while, dusting everything in a thin, crisp layer of white. It was fortunate that she didn’t leave any tracks behind. Yet she still hadn’t seen or heard anything.

Had she been wrong to believe Wuunferth? What if this was just a clever distraction to keep her away from the true location of the next murder? Or worse, a trap?

There was a loud crash somewhere behind her, and her heart leapt into her throat as she whirled around, bow ready. It had come from the forge. As she crept closer, a cat streaked out from behind the stall with a mouse clenched between its teeth, and she realised it had knocked down a large pot of tools. It was just a cat.

Her heart was still hammering painfully in her chest, but at least it hadn’t been the Butcher. A panicked state wouldn’t do her any favours, so she took a long breath and continued to prowl about. Until she found the footprints in the snow. Those certainly weren’t her’s, they were too big. They lead off to the far end of the market square, but still she heard nothing. How had they slipped past her? Had they been the one to frighten the cat?

Valkari drew on the Shadowcloak’s magic and concealed herself from sight as she followed the footprints. She reached the end of the row, where Niranye usually peddled her wares. The prints came to a stop right in front of her stall, yet there was no trace of anyone. Valkari frowned. There was something very wrong here.

Suddenly a nearby lantern burst into life and Valkari suddenly found herself in the clutches of none other than Calixto.

“You thought that little cloak of yours would hide you?” He hissed. “Even a brief flash of light can momentarily dispel the darkest of shadows, my dear.”

His hands were squeezing her windpipe closed, and she struggled for breath.

“You don’t understand! I can’t fail now, not when I’m so close! I’ll get her back, and you will help me! Just like the rest of them!”

She couldn’t break his grip, and her vision was growing foggy. She groped at her wrist, pulling free the hooked blade and sank it into his arm. Calixto let out a howl of pain, and his grip slackened enough for her to pull free. Valkari tore out the blade, taking a good lump of flesh with it before running for cover between the stalls.

Calixto was staggering about, cursing and howling at the top of his lungs. Valkari readied her bow before rolling out from cover and took aim. The arrow found its mark in Calixto’s thigh and the poison gripped him swiftly. Within moments, he was limp on the ground, alive but completely immobilised.

At that moment, there was a great crashing noise as armoured boots thundered against the cobblestones and a group of guards burst into the market, all with their weapons drawn.

“By the Gods!” one cried, running over. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I just caught your Butcher for you,” Valkari said bitterly, massaging her throat. “And I only take rewards in coin.”

“Calixto?! I always knew the man was a little odd, but to commit such heinous acts!” Another guard exclaimed. She shook her head. “You have done Windhelm a great service friend, and I’m sure the Jarl-“

“Would see you rewarded. Personally.”

Valkari turned around just in time to see Ulfric Stormcloak himself striding over, axe strapped to his hip and his eyes fixed on her. The guards leapt aside as he passed, Jorleif, Wuunferth, and Galmar Stone-Fist hurrying along behind him.

“Take him to the prisons,” ordered Ulfric. “I will see to it that he is given a fitting punishment.”

The guards bowed before two of them hauled the still-paralysed Calixto up and dragged him away whilst Ulfric turned to Valkari.

“Wuunferth and Jorleif tell me I have you to thank for catching this Butcher,” said Ulfric. “Yet I feel as though I have seen your face. Do I know you?”

“I believe we shared a cart to Helgen,” she replied.

“Ah yes. Destined for the chopping block, if I recall,” he said, raising a heavy brow. “Whatever your criminal past, you have proven yourself competent. I could use people like you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to keep looking. I don’t get involved in politics.”

“Hm, you are forthright,” he grunted. “I hope you might change your mind. In the meantime, I believe you were looking for a reward.” He beckoned that she follow, and they returned to the Palace of the Kings.

Ulfric sat upon his throne once more, and Valkari prayed that he wasn’t about to name her Thane of yet another hold. One was bad enough.

“Jorleif,” he said, nodding to his steward, then turned back to Valkari. “I have much to thank you for. With the war, my men are spread thin enough as it is. You have proven your worth, so I grant you residence in the city. I believe Hjerim shall be fitting, once it has been cleaned up of that madman’s mess.”

“I prefer to take my rewards in gold, I’m afraid,” she replied.

Ulfric nodded. “I realise this. Hence your other reward.”

Jorleif returned with a large bag of gold, far more than whatever she had lost at Darkwater Crossing. She nearly dropped it, it was so heavy, but once it was in her pack it was a very welcome weight on her shoulders.

“Take it as a token of my appreciation for what you have done for my people. Jorleif will carry out the paperwork to transfer Hjerim into your possession, and it is your’s to do with as you see fit,” said Ulfric. “There is only one thing that I must ask.”

“And that is?”

“Your name. You have done me a service, thus I consider you a friend. And the Jarls of Eastmarch always remember their friends.”

“Valkari of Riften. Is that all?”

Ulfric nodded, and she considered herself dismissed. Jorleif saw her over to the door, before handing over the key and deed to Hjerim. She tried to hand them back.

“I really don’t need the house. I’ve got one in Riften anyway,” she said, shaking her head.

“Take it anyway friend. It would probably save you coin, not having to stay in the Candlehearth Hall whenever you should need a place to lay your head in the city.”

Well that was true. So with that in mind, Valkari stuffed both into her pack and made her way back to the inn. She had a feeling that Aventus wasn’t going to be asleep when she got back, and that she was going to have to repeat the whole tale the moment she stepped through the door.


	6. Debts and Dragons

Being back in Riften was a nice change of pace after everything that had happened. Aventus had returned to Honourhall of which Constance was the new headmistress, and already there was a definite change in the aura coming from that place. It was no longer the awful pit of abuse that it had been under Grelod’s rule; it was a home for the children without parents or relatives to look after them, a place where they were safe and, dare she say it, happy. Of course, Valkari made an effort to stay out of Constance’s sight should they ever happen to be in the market at the same time. There was still a lot of bad blood over Grelod and Runa.

It was of no surprise when the new Headmistress came banging on the door, demanding that Runa return to the orphanage, as there had been no official adoption and therefore Valkari wasn’t legally permitted to keep her. Of course when the entire city guard was corrupt, it wasn’t a problem. A few words to Jarl Leila and soon enough she ruled that Constance could no longer force the issue, as Leila herself officially transferred custody of Runa over to Valkari. It paid to have friends in high places, though as far as Runa knew Valkari had just persuaded Constance to back off. Best not to drag the girl into her problems.

As for Runa herself, she was as good as her word. She really was a bright young girl, and she was as fast and strong as she said. She did all of her chores, never made too big a fuss, and Valkari found teaching her archery to be more fun than she had anticipated. When the weather was good, they’d head down to the lakeside and set up some targets for her to practice with.

It was on one such morning that Karliah came by, looking as though she’d nearly been burnt to a crisp.

“This dragon problem is getting out of hand,” she groaned, flopping down on the grass as Runa played in the shallows. “I was on my way back from Solitude when one caught me on the road. I was lucky I was able to hide in a cave, or else I’d be dead right now.”

Valkari felt her insides twist a little at that. It had been nearly two months since she had killed that dragon in Whiterun, and she’d hoped that someone would have tackled it by now. But with the war going on, no one was in the position to do so. The Stormcloaks and Imperials were far more interested in killing each other than dealing with the dragons, and as a result, things were getting worse by the day. The beasts had yet to reach the Rift, but it was only a matter of time.

They sat there for a while, just watching as Runa splashed in the water with her trousers rolled up.

“She’s been good for you,” said Karliah.

“Yeah.”

“Oi, Val!” Valkari looked over her shoulder to see a red-faced Delvin stomping over. He stopped beside them and proceeded to smack Valkari over the head.

“Ow! What the fuck Delvin?!”

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at? Interfering with the Dark Brotherhood’s business?!” He snapped.

She frowned for a moment, when realisation dawn on her.

“Oh, right. Grelod.”

“Whadda ya mean ‘oh right’? Val, we have an agreement to stay outta their business! And then you-!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I just received a letter from their leader, Astrid. She wants you to meet her up in Morthal. Something about settling the debt, and don’t worry that doesn’t mean she’s gonna kill you. Just… Get over there and smooth this out. And fast. Here.”

He thrust the letter into her hand before storming off, muttering darkly under his breath.

Karliah was looking at her incredulously. “What on earth made you think that stealing a Dark Brotherhood contract was a good idea?”

“It was Grelod. I never said it was a sensible decision,” Valkari sighed, opening the letter from this Astrid person.

_ Delvin, _

_ It has come to my attention that one of your people, Valkari, stole a kill meant for the Dark brotherhood on behalf of one Aventus Aretino. I wish to remind the Thieves Guild of our long standing arrangement in which the guild would take care of its own, whilst refraining from interfering with our own business. Send your thief to the abandoned shack in Morthal in order to repay the debt in blood – do not fear, you will have her back alive and in one piece. I will enclose a map marking the location where she is to meet me. _

_ Regards, _

_ Astrid _

Valkari rubbed her temples, shaking her head. Killing Grelod ought to be worth this trouble, or else she’d rethink revenge in the future. She took a look at the map. This shack where Astrid wanted to meet was right in the middle of the swamps of Morthal. Fantastic.

[S]

Valkari found the shack easily enough. It was the only thing in the swamp that vaguely resembled a building, and nightshade flowers were growing all around the door. She pushed the door open and instantly she was struck by the smell of damp, mingled with that of fresh blood and rot.

The inside was lit softly by lanterns, and there was blood smeared on the walls and splattered on the floor. There was a hole in the ceiling, where moonlight shone through. And lounging on top of a bookcase was a woman who could only be Astrid. She was a nord dressed in black leathers with dark red accents, and a cowl covered most of her face so that only her dark brown eyes were visible. Valkari could see from here that she didn’t appear to be armed. She frowned. That was strange for most people in Skyrim, let alone a professional assassin.

“So, you’re the one?” She said softly, sliding down from her perch. “I thought you’d be taller. You are the only who murdered Mercer Frey after all.”

“You wanted to discuss a debt?” Valkari asked, ignoring the comment.

“Indeed. You see, the Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood kill. A kill that  _ you  _ stole. A kill you must repay.”

“You want me to kill someone else? Who?”

“Well now, funny you should ask.” She gestured to the opposite end of the room. There, kneeling in the executioner’s position with black sacks over their heads and their wrists bound behind their backs, were three people. “One of these poor sods has a contract on their life. Oh, but which one?”

Valkari felt her mouth turn dry and she didn’t look at her as she asked: “What do I have to do?”

She got closer than Valkari could say was comfortable, purring in her ear: “It’s quite simple. Speak with each of them, figure out who has the contract on their life, and kill them. Pick your mark, pick your prey. I’ll just watch, and admire.”

She stepped back, folding her arms. “Well? Get to it then. Choose your guest and send the poor fool to the Void. Your debt will be repaid in full and you’ll be on your way.”

Nodding stiffly, Valkari approached each of the three in turn. Honestly, given the nature of the Dark Brotherhood contracts, it could be any one of them. The khajiit was a conniving scoundrel who might have well cheated the wrong person, but the woman was so snappish it wasn’t hard to imagine her husband might just want to silence her once and for all, and yet there was the cowardly mercenary who had likely killed someone who was so dear to someone that his death was demanded.

Even after speaking with each of them, Valkari had no clear indication of who was more likely to have the contract out on their head. She stepped away, mulling it over. Astrid said only one of them had a contract on their head. But there was one sure way to make sure she definitely eliminated them.

Valkari drew her bow and shot the khajiit through the chest. He screamed, causing the other hostages to promptly panic.

“Ah, the conniving khajiit. I can see why-“

Astrid stopped dead as, to her surprise, Valkari proceeded to shoot the other hostages as well, leaving all three dead on the floor. Leave none of them alive, and the mark was dead for sure.

“Well, aren’t we the over-achiever?” mused Astrid, sounding delightfully surprised. “Three possibilities, three victims. Had to be one of them right? So why take chances?”

“You told me to kill, so I killed.”

“That you did. For you, my friend, seem to understand what’s truly important. When I give you an order to spill blood, you follow it. No questions. No remorse.”

“Am I free to go?” Valkari asked, desiring to get as far from this place as possible and never look back.

“Of course. And you’ve paid your debt in full. But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level,” she said, pulling down her cowl to reveal her face. She was thin faced, a little gaunt, and pale, with a straight nose and full lips that were pulled into a smirk. “I would like to extend to you an official invitation to join my family, the Dark Brotherhood.”

“No,” Valkari said, perhaps a little too quickly and she made to correct herself. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I’m afraid that assassination isn’t for me.”

“Is that so? I doubt Grelod and our guests here would agree,” she remarked, amused.

“Grelod was a special case. And these three…” Valkari jerked her head. “I was just looking to ensure the debt was paid. That’s all. But joining the Dark Brotherhood? I’m sorry, but I can’t. That life just isn’t for me.”

If Astrid was disappointed with her decision, she didn’t say it, but simply inclined her head.

“I understand. But should you ever change your mind, you can reach me through Delvin. He’ll point you in the right direction,” she said. “I wish you luck in all your future endeavours, Lady Nightingale.”

Valkari shivered slightly, barely stopping to incline her head before hurrying out of the shack. Once out in the cold air, she shuddered and ran a hand over her face. From now on, she was staying out of any business that wasn’t her’s, and that was final.

[S]

She should have done something sooner. It had only been a matter of time before something happened.

Valkari was riding back through the Rift when she heard the screaming and the roaring, and it wasn’t long before that she had seen the smoke billowing into the sky. Riften was aflame, and through the clouds she could see the dark silhouette of a dragon swooping over the city. She leapt down from her horse before it even came to a halt at the stables as the guards scrambled, trying their best to herd people to safety.

Valkari charged through the streets, heading for Honeyside. She clawed the door open and found Iona and Runa in the basement, huddled in a dark corner.

“Mama!” cried Runa, tears running down her face. Both of them were covered in soot, and to Valkari’s dismay, Runa’s head was bleeding.

“Shh, it’s okay I’m here,” she soothed, pulling her into her arms, guilt twisting about in her gut. “Iona, are you both alright?”

“We’re fine. We were in the market when it attacked. I only thought to get Runa to safety,” she said. She was pale, but surprisingly calm in spite of the circumstances.

Valkari nodded before straightening up and turning towards an old pile of crates. “Help me move these.”

Runa hung by, still sniffling as the two women shifted the crates, revealing a trapdoor underneath.

“It leads right into the Ratway. Follow the passage and you’ll be in the Ragged Flagon. Tell them I sent you,” Valkari instructed before turning back to Runa. “Runa, I need you to be brave for me. I have to go, but you’ll be safe with Iona, alright?”

“But why aren’t you coming where it’s safe?” she sobbed. “It might eat you!”

“It’s alright Runa, I’ll be fine. Just go. I promise, once this is over we’ll have the biggest dinner you could ever want. Okay?” she said softly, stroking her hair. The cut didn’t seem to be as bad as it looked, but her hand still came away wet with blood.

Runa nodded, still crying but she wiped her eyes and gripped Iona’s hand tightly as the descended into the passage. Once they were gone, Valkari sprinted out of the house, making sure she had all of her gear ready. She’d killed one dragon already, and she could do it again. Here in the city, she was in her element.

The city guard was in disarray and half the city had been reduced to ash by now as the people were fleeing desperately for shelter. Valkari just had to hope the damage wouldn’t spread to the sewers.

“Fall back to the Keep!” shouted the guard captain.

“What’s the point?” despaired another. “Nothing can hold against that beast!”

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouted. “That dragon is going to kill everyone in the city and all you want to do is give up?! Are you warriors or milk drinkers?”

They looked up in shock as she stormed over.

“The guards in Whiterun killed a dragon, we can do the same. Now stop crying and do what I tell you!”

“You’re just a thief!” spat the captain. “What do you know about killing dragons?”

“More than most,” she snapped. “I helped kill the dragon in Whiterun, so either you can help me, or you can get out of my way!”

“YOu did…? But then, that would mean you are-!” The captain’s words were cut short by another burst of fire and the splintering of wood. They barely leapt out of the way as the top floor of the Bee and Barb gave out and nearly crushed them all to death.

“Alright, we’ll do it your way!” snapped the Captain. “Hofnir, find Mjoll and bring her here. We’ll need her help. Raenir, Garland, see if you can’t find any survivors and lead them into the Rat Way, it might be the only safe place left in the city. The rest of you, prepare yourselves and do whatever she tells you. I need to ensure Jarl Leila’s safety.”

The three guards promptly dashed off through the smoke to carry out their orders as the rest turned to Valkari.

“Right. It won’t be easy, but we  _ can  _ kill that dragon. We need to get it on the ground, where it’s most vulnerable. I’ll find a way to bring it down, you just focus on shooting at it. Aim for the wings and the eyes if you can, those are its greatest weaknesses at range,” she ordered, glancing at the sky. The dragon was circling overhead now. “Just try not to die. Move, now!”

And with that she sped off, looking for the tallest building that was still standing and wasn’t being devoured by flames. She had no idea what she planned to do exactly. She didn’t have any kindlepitch this time, and she had no idea how to lure a dragon into landing. It all seemed like a very foolish endeavour.

There was a yell, and Valkari realised the dragon had dropped into a steep dive, wings tucked in tightly to its sides as it plummeted down towards the city below at top speed. At that acceleration, there was no doubt it could easily wipe out all of the guards at once and take a good portion of Riften with it.

Valkari didn’t pause to think as the words flew to her lips, her entire body welling with energy she’d felt before.

“FUS!”

The energy burst free from her mouth and slammed right into the dragon, sending it veering off course right into Lake Honrich where it crashed with a great tidal wave splash. Valkari leapt down from the roof without pause to think about what she had just done. The damn thing was grounded, they had to kill it before it could get back into the air.

The docks were slippery with water as Valkari led the charge down to the lake, Mjoll and the guards at her heels. The dragon’s wings were bent at odd angles, having been broken on impact, and now it was thrashing about in the water, desperately trying to escape. Valkari shot a few arrows, aiming for the eyes. But the beast was flailing so much that getting a clear shot was near impossible.

The dragon floundered for the shallows, where it was met by Mjoll and the guards who promptly proceeded to flay its scaly hide with their swords and axes, digging deep beneath the skin. The beast roared in agony, thrashing and crashing about, snapping its great jaws in a vain attempt to protect itself. Valkari grabbed her blade and ran in, and just like last time, she drove it down through the dragon’s skull. It roared in anguish, falling limp as she ripped the blade free. It was dead.

There was a great cry of joy from the fighters that quickly cut short when the dragon promptly began to burn up. Just like last time. And once again, Valkari found herself being embraced by tendrils of light as power flowed through her, merging with her core.

Everyone was staring in shock, even as the light dissipated..

“I knew it… You really are Dragonborn,” gasped the captain. “The one who helped kill the dragon in Whiterun. The hero of legend.”

“You can’t be serious!” snapped Mjoll. “This woman is nothing more than a thief and a piece of scum. Akatosh would never choose someone like her! Hero of legend indeed!” She spat, glaring at Valkari.

“You saw it for yourself messere,” retorted one of the guards. “She even Shouted, just like the Ancient Nords Heroes did! And she absorbed the dragon’s power!”

They all began to murmur among themselves, still staring at her.

No. No, it had to be wrong.

Valkari turned and bolted back towards the city without a second thought. Running away from it, yet again. Yet the smell flooded her senses, the sight of her city, her home, in ruins. The people she’d known, many lying dead and burnt up by the flames. It was… wrong. And it was her fault. If she’d acted sooner, gone to see the Greybeards sooner…

She swallowed hard, making for the hidden entrance into the Cistern behind the Temple of Mara. The altar slid back, exposing the stairway below and Valkari barely remembered to tug on the chain to close it behind her.

The Cistern was nearly completely abandoned, whilst the Ragged Flagon was packed beyond measure. People fleeing the dragons had taken the chance and dared to take refuge, and for once, the thieves didn’t turn them away. Vekel manned his bar, pouring drinks and selling food as always (he wasn’t about to start being charitable after all), whilst Brynjolf was trying to keep some semblance of order. It wasn’t a position he was expecting to be in, obviously, considering how many of the refugees despised him. He’d swindled most of them at some point or another.

Valkari pushed through the crowds towards him.

“Pa!”

He looked around and wasted no time in pulling her into his arms.

“Oh, my wee lass,” he sighed in relief. “You have no idea how worried I was.”

“I’m fine, Pa. And the dragon is dead,” she said. “We killed it.”

Brynjolf stepped back, looking at her in surprise.

“You helped kill that beast, wee lass? It’s dead?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s safe now… Except for all the fires, anyway. Might need some people to get on it, before the city burns down.”

Sure enough, with the news of the dragon’s death, people slowly began to move back above ground. Not that there were many places to go. A good half of the city was burning down and a scarce few places were still in tact. The guards were organising and Jarl Leila had sent word to Ulfric, requesting aid for the refugees. A camp was set up down by the lake, whilst guards and volunteers alike got to work putting out the fires and gathering the dead so the priests could consecrate and burn the bodies.

It wasn’t long before the heavens quaked again and another cry of ‘DOVAHKIIN’ filled the air, angrier and more impatient than before, and people were talking. Never in history had the Greybeards had to call  _ twice _ when they summoned someone. Soon word of her being Dragonborn had spread. It wouldn’t be long before people started to demand answers. Had she gone to the Greybeards, and if she hadn’t, why? They’d called for her two months ago. They’d say she could have stopped it from happening, that it was her fault so many were dead.

But Valkari simply returned home to Honeyside (which was mercifully left untouched) with Runa. Someone had seen to the wound on her head, which really hadn’t been very serious, but just looking at it made Valkari’s stomach knot. If she’d acted sooner, maybe it would never have happened at all. So many dead and injured and dying… and it was her fault.

Ordinarily she would have insisted she didn’t much care about the problems of others. Her gut was arguing with her, as were her dreams that night as dragon fire plagued her sleep. It was almost a relief that Runa woke her up that night, asking to sleep in her bed because she had bad dreams. Anything to distract herself from the foul stench that wouldn’t get out of her nose.

[]

A few days passed, and Riften was far from recovered. Whilst the quick thinking of the guards and some guild footpads to get people into the Ratway had saved many lives, many others had died.

Bersi Honey-hand had been crushed to death when the roof of his shop collapsed in on itself. Talen-Jei had been caught in the fire when trying to rescue patrons in the Bee and Barb, his burnt up body being pulled out of the rubble. It was the first time Valkari had ever seen Keerava cry, as silver tears trickled down her pale scales. The orphanage roof had collapsed in, and it was a miracle that Constance and the children survived at all. Drifa, now widowed, assisted however she could in overseeing the children with Constance. She was the firm hand those boys needed, and with undoubtedly more children to be joining them, the support Constance needed.

Even the Black-Briars weren’t unaffected. Maven’s eldest son, Hemming, got himself eaten when he foolishly attempted to try challenging the dragon himself, and whilst the Black-Briar Matriarch acted as though she was unaffected by the loss, Valkari could tell otherwise.

All in all, it was a tragedy by any measure, and one it would take months for the city to recover from, maybe even years.

‘And it’s my damned fault,’ Valkari couldn’t help but think. She should have acted sooner but didn’t. She’d hoped someone else would handle it, but they didn’t. And now it seemed she was the only one who  _ could _ do something.

The stench of burnt flesh still lingered in her nose.

She had to do something.


	7. High Hrothgar

Leaving Runa alone in Honeyside, even with Iona keeping an eye on her, didn’t sit right with Valkari. So when morning came and it was time to head for Whiterun, she headed down into the Ragged Flagon where Brynjolf was waiting. His brow was furrowed and he looked worried.

“Are you sure about this lass? You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

Valkari nodded grimly. “I’ve got no choice. Just look after her until I get back. And Pa, no thieving stuff. I don’t want that for her.”

“What, no love for the guild?” he teased, but his grin quickly evaporated when he realised how serious she was. “Alright lass, you don’t need to worry about her. The wee lass is in good hands.”

Valkari had no doubts about that, yet she couldn’t help the nagging worry in her chest as she climbed into the cart bound for Whiterun. She watched as Riften faded off into the distance, wondering how safe was the city really. It had been one dragon, sure, but how many more would come? And how could they possibly be ready the next time one came around?

There was no doubt about how dangerous this was going to be, and there was every chance that she was going to end up dead if she tried to do it alone. She was one thief, and too easy a target alone. She needed some brute strength on her side, and luckily, she knew exactly where to find it.

A guard was happy to point Whiterun’s Thane in the right direction when she asked. Lydia was busy training in a small paddock, just beyond the stables, hacking at some worn practice dummies, most of which were now little more than a wrecked pile of wood, straw and burlap sacking. Not exactly the most challenging thing to hit with a big axe.

Valkari approached the paddock fence, watching carefully as Lydia swung her axe at the dummy which promptly crumpled in half from the blow. She snorted as she tore her axe free and kicked it to one side.

“You need dummies made of stronger stuff.”

Lydia pivoted on the ball of her foot, axe at the ready as she took a fighting stance. Instinctively, Valkari backed away, holding her hands up and Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise. She lowered the axe, frowning suspiciously.

“What are you doing here?”

Valkari shrugged, wandering over to the pile of ruined dummies. They had never stood a chance. She knew she was making a good choice at any rate.

When she glanced up again, Lydia had set up another dummy and hoisted her axe into her hands again. She had a good, powerful stance – not easy to knock over, and whilst that axe was heavy, she was strong enough to swing fast and hard, so enemies trying to flank her would have a tough time actually penetrating her defences.

Valkari stepped back to watch her work for a few minutes. Lydia was a lot taller than her, maybe by a head and a half. She had dark hair she kept braided out of her face and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. Her eyes were a light shade of green with flecks of grey, and Valkari had to admit she was fairly handsome. She hadn’t taken the time to make a note of it last time they’d met, she was too exhausted, too worked up.  Lydia had been wearing steel armour that day, though today she’d exchanged it for a pair of light breeches and a tunic that exposed her muscular arms that were crisscrossed with scars. All in all, she was fairly standard for a warrior.

“How do you feel about fighting dragons?” Valkari asked, as though asking about the weather.

Lydia looked up, frowning. “Why do you care?”

She shrugged again. “Well personally, I’d rather bring someone who’s all for it than someone who’d run in the other direction.”

Her frown deepened. “What happened to wanting nothing to do with it?”

“I imagine at this rate the Greybeards might come and drag me up that mountain themselves if I leave it any longer,” she said. “You heard them Shouting the other day, didn’t you?”

“Everyone heard it,” Lydia grumbled. “Probably the first time in history that the Greybeards have needed to call someone twice.”

“Probably.” There was a pause as she turned to swing her axe at the dummy again. “Look, you’re my Housecarl right?”

“Indeed. Balgruuf never revoked your title, and he didn’t reassign me either,” she answered begrudgingly.

“Then I need you to come with me to try and put a stop to this dragon nonsense. That’s what Housecarls do, right? Help their Thanes however they can?”

“I thought you didn’t want to be a Thane.”

“I don’t. But I’ll take advantage of it, if it means getting help to fight these dragons.” Valkari turned to walk away. “But if you’d rather stay here and fight dummies, be my guest.”

There was a long pause as she walked towards the fence of the paddock when she heard Lydia yell: “Move!”

Suddenly, there was a great rumble and a long shadow fell over her. Lydia barely tackled Valkari out of the way in time as a gigantic club cleaved the earth where she had been standing barely moments before, splintering the paddock fence like it was nothing.

A giant, at least twelve feet tall was standing over them. It stunk to high heaven of sour milk and wet fur, among other indescribable things. It had a beard decorated with beads carved from ivory and the trunks of trees, and it wore only a loin cloth over its nethers. Its body was covered in markings that Valkari hoped were paint, and it wore carved stone loops in its earlobes.

They scrambled to their feet as the giant lifted its weapon up again and turned its head to search for them again. Valkari readied an arrow quickly and managed to catch it in the upper arm. The giant let out a roar of pain and swung the club again. Lydia and Valkari promptly hit the ground as it barely scraped above their heads.

Valkari grabbed for an arrow from her quiver, when another whizzed over her head and caught the giant right in the ankle. As it roared, clutching at the tiny projectile, Valkari looked up to see a group of people charging over.

“Quickly now, before it can recover,” shouted one of them, a nord woman with flaming red hair and green war paint streaked across her face. She readied her bow, aiming for the chest this time.

The redguard woman ran in with her sword, plunging it into the giant’s calf. It cried and stumbled again as a huge nord man charged in with his axe. The giant swung its club at him blindly, forcing him to dive out of the way.

“Farkas, watch yourself!” shouted the redguard, tearing her sword free and skirting backwards.

The giant advanced blindly upon her, still swinging its club madly. Valkari fired another arrow, this one burying itself into the giant’s side. It turned on her, squinting as its blood splattered the ground. It staggered forward, lifting its club with a great deal of effort when two arrows pierced through its skull – Valkari’s through its eye, the other through the side. The giant quivered and keeled over sideways into the dirt. Dead.

She breathed hard. That was the first time she’d ever fought a giant, and hopefully it would be the last. Slowly, she approached the giant and pulled out one of her arrows. It was covered in thick, sticky blood and fat. Useless.

“Not bad.”

Valkari looked up to see the nord woman striding over. She recognised her now. She was one of the warriors from Jorrvaskr, Aela the Huntress. And she looked very impressed.

“You could make for a decent Shield Sister,” she remarked, looking Valkari up and down. It was perhaps the first time another nord had done so without contempt.

“Shield Sister?”

She raised an eyebrow. “An outsider eh? Never heard of the Companions?”

“I've heard enough. People hire you lot out to solve problems and you pretend that doesn't make you just another bunch of mercs," Valkari said dismissively.

"Well nobody asked you," Aela growled, eyes narrowed. "If you think you're better than we are, go talk to Kodlak Whitemane. See what a warrior of true mettle is like."

She nodded to her Shield Siblings and they turned to march away, back towards the city. Valkari knew that the trip to Jorrvaskr was one she was never going to make. She turned back to Lydia.

“You know, Companions or no… There’s more fights like that one waiting, if you want to tag along,” she said.

Lydia looked back over to the giant’s corpse, then back to Valkari and finally a smile appeared on her face.

“Give me one hour.”

[S]

The Seven Thousand Steps quickly proved treacherous as they climbed. Shrines were dotted up the path, and every now and then they met a hunter who warned us to watch out for the wolf packs who made the mountain their territory. But there were other dangers to be mindful of, and as they inched their way along a narrow ledge Valkari remembered why she usually avoided mountains. Even with the blizzard raging below, she knew that the ground was a very long way down and that falling meant certain death.

When the path broadened again, Valkari stayed as far from the edge as possible. The air was growing thin now, and the wind was growing stronger. Luckily both herself and Lydia were both nords, and so had less trouble with the cold than some people might. Still, she had no desire to stay out in it for longer than necessary, and she was sure Lydia felt the same way.

They passed another shrine, though there was no one kneeling at this one – perhaps the weather was too treacherous for pilgrims now.

Valkari shook her head. They had to be getting close to the monastery now. It didn’t even sit at the peak, which was concealed by a dense, stormy cloud layer.

The path continued through a narrow pass. And as they drew closer, Valkari realised the entrance was littered with bones and there was an awful stench coming from within. She gestured to Lydia to duck and readied her bow, creeping closer. If they were lucky it would be the work of wolves, but that smell… That wasn’t the scent of a wolf marking its territory.

Valkari peered around the corner and filling up most of the pass, scratching its rear, was a frost troll. Its coarse fur was white and covered in mould. Its long arms were as thick as tree trunks, and dragged across the ground with claws that looked like they could cut through steel. As it shook its head, she could spy its long ape-like face with three black, beady eyes. It hadn’t seen her just yet, but they’d have to kill it to get through. And frost trolls had a nasty reputation for a reason.

Valkari crept back to Lydia.

“Wolves my arse,” she hissed. “It’s a troll, and a big one.”

They had to come up with a plan quickly before the wind could change and alert it to their presence. A close quarters fight was too dangerous, but without a drop of magicka between the two of them, their options were limited unless they could lure it out of the pass. In the open, they stood a better chance. So Lydia flattened herself against the wall, ready to act when the troll appeared, and Valkari got closer to the entrance with her bow at the ready.

The arrow stuck in the troll’s left shoulder, and it roared as it charged in Valkari’s direction. She dived out of the way, allowing the troll to charge past blindly into the open. The few seconds it stood around, blinking stupidly and wondering where she went gave Lydia the opportunity to charge in with a war cry. She swung her axe hard into its rib cage, the force of the blow sending the troll stumbling over the ledge, and it vanished down the mountain side with a distant dying shriek.

“Well there’s one arrow I’m never getting back,” Valkari sighed, shouldering her bow.

But the pass was clear, and so they carried on before anything else could appear. And as they rounded the corner at the end of the pass, it finally came into view.

Valkari wasn’t certain what she was expecting, but High Hrothgar was no simple chapel or abbey. The monastery towered against the landscape, built from grey stone with great turrets reaching for the sky. Sweeping stone staircases led up to the doors, and fires burned brightly in their braziers, illuminating decorative stone carvings. And standing to one side of the path was a statue of Talos, with offerings of coin and herbs left at the base.

To Valkari’s surprise, the steps were clear of ice and snow, with not even the slightest frost clinging to them.

“It’s magic, it has to be,” Lydia murmured as they climbed the steps. “How else could they not be completely frozen over?”

“You can ask if you like. Let’s just hope they can tell us what to do about these dragons,” Valkari said as they reached the top of the steps and stood before the great stone doors leading inside.

She lifted a fist and knocked on the door.

The door opened and an old man in a grey, moth-eaten robe stood there. He didn't say a word, but looked at Valkari expectantly.

"I believe you've been expecting me," she said.

He nodded, and stooped into a bow before straightening up and standing to one side, allowing them inside. But as he closed the door, he gestured to Lydia and pointed to a bench by the door.

“Is something wrong?” Valkari asked.

The Greybeard didn’t answer, just pointed from Lydia to the bench more fervently.

“I… think I’m allowed inside because I’m with you,” she said slowly. “But I’m not allowed further into the monastery?”

The Greybeard nodded and pointed to the bench. Lydia sighed and sat herself down, nodding to Valkari as she followed the Greybeard into the main hall. It was dark, with only a few dim torches lighting the room, which was ultimately rather plain. A few potted plants filled alcoves off of the sides of the rooms, and passageways lead to other areas of the monastery, but there wasn't all that much to look at. It was also so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Up here, one might never know that dragons were burning Skyrim to the ground whilst a civil war raged.

Valkari was led to another Greybeard kneeling before a statue of Kyne. The other bowed and shuffled away as he got to his feet and turned to her.

"So, a Dragonborn appears at this moment, in the turning of the age," he said in a hoarse voice.

"I'm answering your summons."

"Yes. We will see, if you truly have the gift. Come, let us taste your voice."

Valkari hesitated – her Shout had been powerful enough to throw a dragon across a city and into a lake. This old man looked like the gentlest breeze might knock him down.

"Do not be afraid," he instructed calmly. "Your Shout will not harm us."

With that assurance, she screwed up every bit of power she could find and focused on the word, the energy flowing through her as the word erupted on her lips: "FUS!"

A pulse of energy burst free and knocked the Greybeard back, causing him to stagger but only for a moment. He nodded, and seemed pleased and perhaps even awed.

"Dragonborn. It is you." He bowed. "Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir, I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, why have you come here?"

"I'm answering your summons," she repeated, frowning slightly.

"Indeed. Though you did not seem so inclined when we first summoned you here."

Ah, that.

"I wasn't… Prepared to believe it back then," she confessed.

"Something dear to you was harmed, I take it?" She nodded. "I see. Regardless, we are honoured to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift, in fulfilment of your destiny."

"Which is?"

But Arngeir shook his head. "That is for you to discover. We can show you the way, but not the destination."

This was it. No turning back now. "I'm ready to learn."

"Very well. But the hour grows late, and to begin now would be without worth. I shall show you and your companion to your quarters, and we shall begin on the morrow."

Lydia was led into the main hall by another of the Greybeards, and Arngeir led them off through one of the side passages.

The rooms weren't much more than individual cells, with a single bed and cabinet in each. But they were warm and comfortable enough for the night. Valkari bid Lydia goodnight as she closed the door behind her.

She couldn't be bothered to take off her armour as her feet were still aching from the climb. She pulled off her boots, mask and cloak, and stowed them in the cabinet with her pack, before climbing into bed and curling up beneath the blankets. She fell asleep almost instantly.

Perhaps it was just the exhaustion from the long climb, but Valkari had a very strange dream.

She found herself standing before a stone pedestal in a square room that she didn't recognise. Lying on the pedestal before her was a thick, black book without a title. Instead, embossed onto the cover was an image of a mass of tentacles and eyeballs.

A whispering voice urged her to open it, but no sooner than she laid a finger to the cover, it sprang open and thick, writhing tentacles burst forth from the pages, wrapping around her wrists and neck, pulling her headlong into the book.

Valkari awoke in a cold sweat, breathing hard and fast as she tried to make sense of what she had just seen. She rolled onto her side, falling back into an uneasy sleep, and when morning came, the memory of it was gone.

[]

The next morning, Valkari didn’t feel as though she’d slept at all when Arngeir came to wake her. Through the window, she could see the faint touch of pale daylight on the horizon indicating dawn's approach. She grabbed her boots and pulled them on before quickly pulling back her hair. Arngeir led her into a large chamber that was even barer than the entrance hall. A couple of banners bearing that strange language from the Word Walls hung from the ceiling, but there was nothing else.

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn," Arngeir began as he led her into the room. "You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament needed to follow the path laid out before you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps in projecting your voice into a Thu'um, or Shout. Now, let us see if you are willing and able to learn."

Valkari stood in the centre of the chamber as two of the other three Greybeards shuffled into the room, forming a circle around me. There was no sign of Wulfgar, and she had the sneaking suspicion he was keeping an eye on Sanera whilst she was here.

"When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon's Blood gives you the inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, the Shout becomes progressively stronger," Arngeir explained. "You have mastered two Words, from two different Shouts – 'Fus' the first Word of 'Unrelenting Force', and 'Zun' the first of 'Disarm'."

Zun. That was the Word Valkari had learned in Snow Veil Sanctum, though she'd never used it before, seeing as she hadn't even realised what had happened at the time.

"Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro', the second Word in Unrelenting Force. Ro means 'Balance' in the Dragon tongue, and will help to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

Einarth looked to be oldest of the Greybeards as he hobbled forwards, peering up at Valkari with misty eyes. He turned and pointed to the ground before whispering the Word: "Ro."

The writing carved itself into the floor like an invisible claw was dragging itself through the stone. To anyone else, they might look just like that – claw markings. But to Valkari, they formed the word. It began to glow and shimmer, just like they did at the Word Walls as the word burned itself into her mind like a hot iron, and its essence filled her.

Valkari looked back up at Arngeir, who seemed in complete awe.

"You learn a new Word like a Master. You really do have the gift. But learning a Word of Power is only the first step. You must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout… Or at least, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. Now, let us see how quickly you master your new Thu'um."

[]

Day after day, Valkari trained under the Greybeards. But there was much more to their teachings than just Shouts themselves. Every time she mastered a new Shout, she was sent to meditate on the Shout at the top of one of the towers, were the world was silent and there was nothing to distract her from her thoughts. It was more intensive than words could describe, as on top of learning Shouts and meditating on them, she had to learn to read, write and speak the Dragon Language to at least a basic degree. It didn't help that her Common literary skills were rudimentary any way – she could read well enough, but writing was hard and took a great deal of concentration. So it didn't help that certain matters kept crossing her mind, and drawing her attention from her training even for a few moments.

Valkari had seen very little of Lydia since they had arrived, as she might distract her from her studies. The rare moments she did see the the warrior, she seemed well enough and sometimes she could see her out training in the courtyard through the tower windows whilst she was stuck meditating.

On the seventh day of her training, Valkari headed for the courtyard where Arngeir, Borri, Einarth and Wulfgar were waiting. Today they were practicing yet another new Shout, one Valkari had been taught the day before and given time to meditate on. Now it was time to put the Shout into practice.

"Master Wulfgar will demonstrate the Shout, Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be your turn," Arngeir said loudly over the howling wind. He nodded to Wulfgar and Borri who both took their positions.

She couldn't hear what Borri Shouted, but whatever Word he had used had caused the metal gate at the opposite end of the courtyard to swing open. Wulfgar then Shouted and he appeared on the other side of the gate, a foot or so away from the edge. Valkari gulped. She hoped she had enough control not to pitch herself off of the edge.

"Stand next to me, Dragonborn," instructed Arngeir, and she moved into position. "Master Borri will open the gate, and you will use your Shout to pass through before it closes."

Valkari readied herself, waiting for the gate to open. She didn't hear Borri Shout, but the gate opened and she Shouted: "WULD!"

It felt like she was being carried forward by a fierce gust of wind, the entire world around her a complete blur. When it stopped, she was standing on the other side of the closed gate, just a few feet in front of Wulfgar. He smiled slightly, and bowed.

When Valkari returned to Arngeir, he led her back into the monastery where it was quiet. He seemed most pleased.

"Your quick mastery of the Thu'um is… Astonishing. I'd heard stories of the abilities of the Dragonborn, but to actually see it for myself…"

"It just happens. I don't even think about it," Valkari admitted sheepishly, shrugging.

"You were given this gift by the gods for a reason. It is up to you to figure out how best to use it. You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from his tomb in Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you shall return."

"Where do I find Ustengrav?"

"You will find it in the marshes of Morthal. You will have little trouble, I am sure.”

[]

Ustengrav differed little from any other of the ancient Nordic tombs that dotted Skyrim. From the undead that wandered its halls, to the dense cobwebs and thick layer of dust, it was almost like any other – even the necromancers in the upper levels were hardly surprising. And with Lydia at her back, getting through to the final resting place of Jurgen Windcaller was perhaps the easiest task Valkari had been given since this whole Dragonborn fiasco had begun.

She pulled the chain to open the steel gate barring the way into Windcaller's burial chamber, and it slid into the ground with a sharp grinding noise. The two of them found themselves at the top of a flight of stairs. Below was a walkway that was flanked by two pools of water, and on the far side of the room was a large, stone sarcophagus set upon a dais. Innumerable carvings decorated the walls, and the pillars holding up the ceiling were carved into the shape of serpents.

No sooner than Valkari took a step forwards, there was an ominous rumble as the water in the pools began to bubble and froth. From the depths, dragons carved from stone rose up and she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that they were being watched as they hurried across the walkway whilst trying not to slip on the wet flagstones. But immediately Valkari could see that something was wrong. Atop the sarcophagus, there was a hand that seemed like it should be clutching the horn that Arngeir had described. Instead, between its fingers was a folded piece of parchment. It looked new.

She plucked it from the stone's fingers, unfolded it and read aloud:

_Dragonborn,_

_I need to speak with you. Urgently._

_Rent the attic room in the Sleeping Giant Inn, and I'll meet you._

_Come alone._

_– A friend._

She looked over at Lydia, who looked as confused as she felt.

"The Sleeping Giant Inn?"

"In Riverwood," Valkari replied, frowning at the parchment.

"It could be a trap," Lydia pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Or they could be playing it safe," Valkari countered. "It might be worth investigating this further."

"What, and play along?" Lydia said incredulously, frowning. "Anyone could have left that here, friend or foe. If we go at all, it should be for the horn and nothing else."

Valkari didn’t reply, instead turning to look at the rest of the chamber. In the corners of the room were two coffins. Both had already been opened, and the draugr inside of them had already been cut down. It didn't look like this mysterious 'friend' of her’s had given them a chance to fight back. Lydia followed her gaze and bent over one of the corpses.

“I’ve never seen a blade leave cuts like this,” she murmured. “I don’t like this, Val.”

Valkari didn’t reply, instead returning to her original deliberation on the mysterious note sender. Whoever had done this was fast and strong; they had to be to get past all those draugr to get here ahead of them, and if Lydia was impressed with their work, it made them an opponent Valkari was reluctant to trifle with.

But they had the horn, and they were claiming to be a friend. Of course, Valkari had made the mistake of trusting Mercer, and she had known him for eight years before he tried to kill her. No, trust wasn't an option, but what choice did they have? The only way to proceed any further with this dragon problem was to get the horn, and she could only do that by investigating the note.

"I'll go," she said, resigning herself to the likelihood of a trap. "And I'll go alone."

Lydia balked.

"You can't be serious, what if-?!"

"I was under the impression you agreed to follow my orders," Valkari growled. "You'll wait for me in Whiterun while I go to meet our new friend. Got it?"

Lydia nodded albeit reluctantly. It was clear she didn't like the idea of Valkari meeting this mysterious person alone and without anyone to watch her back, but their options were sorely limited. It was a risk they’d have to take.


	8. A Blade in the Dark

Reaching Riverwood had been more difficult than Valkari would have liked. With the war spreading thick and fast again, she was having to skirt past patrols of Imperials, Stormcloaks and Thalmor Justiciars along the roads, whilst diverting around the fields of bloody battle. Thus the rustic little town seemed rather surreal, given how peaceful it was. Valkari hoped Riverwood never learnt what it meant to be caught in a war.

The innkeeper was sweeping the floor by the hearth when she approached, and she narrowed her stormy grey eyes.

"So you're that visitor been poking around," she remarked. Valkari had the strangest feeling that she knew her from somewhere.

"I've been known to," she said, shrugging. "I'd like to rent the attic room."

"The attic room eh? Well we don't have an attic room. But you can have the one on the left," she said shortly.

Valkari handed over the coin, frowning as the innkeeper resumed sweeping, but she headed for the room she indicated anyway and shut the door behind her.

It looked like any other inn room, with a bed, a cabinet and a small table and chair. There wasn't an attic room here at all, despite what the note had said. Perhaps this was a trap after all.

She turned to leave when the door opened and the innkeeper stepped in. She checked over her shoulder as she shut the door behind her before she turned back to Valkari.

"So you're the Dragonborn I've heard so much about," she said in a low voice, her eyes skimming over Valkari, who could sense the trepidation and doubt in her gaze. But regardless, she reached into a pouch on her hip. "I think you're looking for this."

She pulled out an object and held it out. An old, stone horn inscribed with runes from the Dragon language.

Valkari gaped, taking it and turning it over in her hands. "How did-?"

But she shook her head. "Not here. Follow me."

Valkari followed her back out into the main room and through the door opposite. She closed it behind them before crossing over to the wardrobe in the corner and opened it. The back panel slid open, revealing a short flight of stairs. She beckoned Valkari forwards. Valkari descended the steps, keeping a hand on her dagger as a precaution. She still wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Somewhere up above, the innkeeper closed the wardrobe before following her down into the darkened room at the bottom. She waved a hand and torches burst into life along the walls.

For a moment, it was like being in the training room back in the Cistern. There was a rack of weapons from swords, to bows, and against the far wall was a bookshelf filled with countless potion vials and ingredients. A training dummy stood in one corner, and in the other was an alchemy station. And in the centre of the room was a table with a very familiar map spread across the surface, though the last time Valkari had seen it was in a very different form.

"There. Now we can talk," said the innkeeper.

"So you're the one who took the horn?"

She smirked back. "Surprised? I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act."

Valkari crossed her arms, still perfectly poised to grab a dagger from her gauntlet.

"Well I'm here. What do you want?"

The smirk slid from her face and turned into a scowl. "I didn't go through all this trouble on a whim. I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap." She groaned and shook her head. "I am  _ not _ your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to  _ help  _ you. I just need you to hear me out."

"Then get talking. Fast," Valkari snarled. "I'll give you a minute longer than I gave Mercer Frey."

"I'll explain what I want, when I want, got it?" She snapped back. "You'd be dead already if I didn't like the look of you when you walked in here."

Valkari pulled out the dagger. "If you think that threatening me is going to win you any favours, you're not as clever as you think you are," she spat.

She glared back, unflinching, but she didn't draw a weapon of her own. Yet.

"Tell me who you are," Valkari demanded. "Or I walk out now."

"I'm part of a group who's been looking for you, or someone like you, for a very long time," she explained tersely, before looking her over again and still looking decidedly unimpressed. "If you really  _ are  _ Dragonborn that is. Before I tell you anymore, I need to know if I can trust you."

Valkari snorted. Trust. Now what a grand thing that was.

"Why would you be looking for a Dragonborn?" she asked, picking up a sword handle lying rather sadly on the table. The blade was long broken, and she couldn't see any sign of the shattered remains anywhere. Yet it was a warm, comforting feeling beneath her fingers as she examined the handle. It was unlike any she had seen, with a long grip lined with supple leather, and a round guard. From the way it was balanced, she could guess it had been a lightweight blade, but a long one if the length of the handle was anything to go by.

"We remember what most don't; that the Dragonborn is the ultimate Dragon Slayer. You're the only one who can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you?"

She shrugged. "I absorb something from the dragons when they die."

"This is no time to play the reluctant hero; either you are, or you aren't," the innkeeper snapped, before sighing. "But I suppose I'll find out soon enough."

Valkari glanced up, and as she did so her finger slipped, and she sliced it open on the sharp edge of the sword.

"Shit," she hissed, promptly sticking it in her mouth before the blood got everywhere. That was a very sharp blade.

The innkeeper groaned and strode over.

"Here, let me," she grumbled, wrenching her finger out of her mouth and promptly healed the wound shut. She then snatched the sword handle away from her. "I'm afraid that that belongs with me. It's too valuable to lose to an outsider."

"It's just a sword handle," Valkari grumbled. "What's the big deal?"

"Prove you're Dragonborn, and I'll tell you," she said shortly, stowing the handle away into a nearby chest.

"Okay. So what's the part you're not telling me?"

She paused as she tucked the chest key into her pouch. She gave Valkari a completely serious look.

"Dragons aren't just coming back. They're coming back to life," she said. "They weren't just gone somewhere for all these years. They were killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's bringing them back, and I need your help to stop it."

There was a very awkward silence following this, and Valkari wasn't sure whether she should laugh or not.

"You  _ do  _ realise how insane that sounds, don't you?" she asked, unable to bite back the disbelieving laugh colouring her voice.

To her surprise, she laughed too. 

"You know, I once said the exact same thing to a colleague of mine a few years back," she said, shaking her head ruefully. "Well it turned out I was wrong, and he was right."

Valkari raised a brow. "So what's your plan?"

The innkeeper pointed at the map on the table and Valkari looked at it. It was of Skyrim, and it was dotted with red crosses – the one she was pointing at sat just a little above the word 'Kynesgrove', a village that sat between Riften and Windhelm.

"I've been noting a pattern of which dragons are coming back to life. I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty, and it seems to be spreading south east, from the Jerralls. And this is where the next one will appear, if the pattern holds. We're going to head out there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you everything I know."

"Does that include your name, or do I get the pleasure now?"

"…Delphine."

"Valkari."

She nodded curtly. "Let me get into my travelling gear and we'll head for Kynesgrove."

[S]

"Okay,  _ you  _ can be bad enough with your secrets," hissed Lydia as she clanked along at Valkari’s shoulder, jerking her head in Delphine's direction. "But her? At least I know to tell the difference between lies and sarcasm with you."

"I don't like it either, but we don't have a choice. The more we find out about these dragons, the better."

They'd stopped in Whiterun on the way to Kynesgrove to recruit Lydia in their fight against the dragon in Kynesgrove, and right now Lydia liked Delphine almost as much as Valkari did. Which was very little at all. She hated the half answers and the secrets, but provided they got the job done then they'd get the truth.

After a couple of days travelling the roads, Kynesgrove came into view. And it seems they were in the nick of time, as a young dark haired woman came sprinting down the road, skidding to a stop before them.

"Wait, you don't want to go up there! A dragon! It's attacking!" She cried, pale faced and witless.

"A dragon's attacking?" Valkari asked doubtfully. There was no sign of any dragon from what she could see – no fires, no collapsing buildings and no one else seemed to be running for their lives. It was actually rather quiet.

"I don't know. It just flew over the town and landed on the old dragon mound," she admitted anxiously. "I'm not waiting around to see what it does though. I'm getting out of here."

And she shoved past, running down the road as she did so. Valkari glanced at Delphine, who seemed far more worried than she did.

"Come on, we might be too late."

She ran up the road and Valkari and Lydia followed after. Then they heard it – the great beating of wings, the roaring of wind, and a deep guttural voice over the howling, speaking words Valkari could recognise and feel the power of, but couldn't hope to understand. The Greybeards' teachings had done nothing to ready her for comprehending these words.

They came to the top of the hill when they were forced to duck behind a large outcrop of rock. There above the dragon mound, larger than a house and with scales and spines darker than midnight was the dragon that had destroyed Helgen.

"Lorkhan's eyes, look at that big bastard," muttered Delphine, torn between awe and horror.

There was a word that cracked like thunder, and the dragon mound split open. From within, a giant claw bone emerged, and with it, it dragged up the gigantic skeleton of what could only be a dragon. It was a sight Valkari was all too familiar with by now, given how many she had killed by now. But the bones usually only appeared  _ after _ the dragon died.

A spark of fire emerged from the hollows of its snout and quickly spread – muscle began to grow and spread along the bones, followed by flesh and sinew and scales. The leathery membranes of the wings knitted together as bright yellow eyes formed and became whole.

It rumbled back at the black dragon in words Valkari still couldn't quite grasp. The black dragon replied, before turning its head in her direction, its dark red eyes glowering right at her.

"You do not even speak our tongue, do you?" It grumbled with deepest disgust. "Such arrogance, to take for yourself the name of Dovah." It turned back to the newly resurrected dragon and said something that sounded like an order. With a great beat of its wings, it soared upwards into the air and disappeared into the darkening sky, whilst its friend reared its ugly head in the direction of their hiding place.

"Run!" Valkari yelled.

Lydia and Delphine wasted no time following the order as the dragon spat a stream of fire. It raised its wings to take off and in a moment of great recklessness, Valkari hooked one of her daggers into its snout.

The dragon roared in pain as the blade sunk down between its scales into the flesh underneath. It frantically swung its head to try and dislodge her, and it was all Valkari could do to cling on for dear life. She heard the others shouting and a shower of icicles promptly shredded the dragon’s wings.

Half blinded in agony, the dragon stumbled, still trying to throw her off whilst keeping a distance between itself, Delphine, and Lydia. Valkari swung her leg up around its snout, hauling herself up and clinging to the scales to hold on. She drew her sword and plunged it right into the dragon's eye. With a wailing roar, it reared up before hitting the ground with an almighty crash; dead before it could do any harm.

Shaking slightly, Valkari pulled her sword and dagger free from the dragon and slid down from its snout. As she did so, a familiar sensation tingled in her very blood as flames consumed the dragon's form and she was wrapped in tendrils of light.

"Gods above!" gasped Delphine, somewhere above the noise.

When the light died down, the dragon was a pile of bones once more.

"So you really are Dragonborn…"

Valkari looked over to see Delphine standing there, completely awestruck by what she had just witnessed. Lydia however, having helped kill several dragons over the last few weeks, was no longer so easily impressed.

Delphine then seemed to remember her promise. "I owe you some answers, don't I?"

"I remember you saying something like that," Valkari said coolly, crossing her arms.

"Go ahead. Whatever you want to know. Nothing held back."

Fair enough. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

"I'm one of the last of the Blades. A long time ago, the Blades were dragon slayers and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragon slayer," she explained. "For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor died, the Blades have been searching for a Dragonborn to guide and guard, as we are sworn to do. But we never found one. Until now."

She gave Valkari a near reverent look, very different from the rather disdainful glances she had given her back in Riverwood.

Of course Valkari had heard of the Blades. Until the Great War thirty years ago, they had protected the Emperor personally. Even the Hero of Kvatch herself had been one amongst their ranks before her death at the end of the Oblivion Crisis. But the Thalmor had seen to it that the Blades were no longer a threat to their Dominion, having personally cut off the heads of every Blades agent in their territory. Now they were officially disbanded, and few spoke of them. Valkari had only heard about them because Delvin always loved a good bit of drama.

"All this time, the Blades have been searching for a purpose," Delphine continued. "Now that the dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear. We need to stop them."

"So what  _ do  _ you know about them coming back?" Valkari jabbed a finger in the direction that the black dragon had disappeared in. "Friend of yours?"

Delphine shook her head. "I was just as surprised as you to find that big black dragon here."

"That's one for me then," she laughed. "That's the big ugly bastard that destroyed Helgen and spared me a shave from the Imperial headsman."

"Really? That's interesting… Same dragon… Damn it! We're blundering around in the dark here. We need to figure out who's behind it all."

"Any ideas as to who that might be?" Valkari asked, glancing over at Lydia. She simply shrugged, as in the dark as the rest of them.

"The Thalmor are our next best lead," said Delphine, pacing up and down. "If they aren't involved, they'll know who  _ is _ ."

Valkari didn't like the idea of tangling with the Thalmor, she'd seen first-hand what just a handful of their Justiciars were capable of. But if it meant getting to the bottom of this mystery, then she was up for anything.

"Any ideas?"

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy… But that place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse…" She sighed, rubbing her temples in aggravation. "I'll contact you when I have some ideas. Get in touch with some old contacts, put together a plan."

Valkari shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll be in Riften, just drop a note by Honeyside. I'll get it."

Delphine nodded. "Right. I'll let you know when I have something. Keep an eye to the sky. This is only going to get worse."


	9. The Issue with Diplomacy

The first thing Valkari did was return to High Hrothgar with the horn, considering the trouble she had gone through to obtain the damned thing in the first place. Lydia however had seemed more interested in visiting her elderly mother back in Whiterun which had recently repelled yet another dragon attack, so Valkari headed up the mountain alone this time.

Not that she minded too much – she’d felt a little smothered by all the company she’d had as of late, and to be on her own for a while was actually rather pleasant. It also meant very few awkward questions as to where she had been when she returned in the middle of the night with odd trinkets in her pockets that hadn’t been there before.

Still, Arngeir seemed pleased to see her with the horn, and took it in his hands gratefully.

“The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. You have now passed all of the trials. It is time for us to formally recognise you as Dragonborn.”

He gestured to the centre of the hall, as the rest of the Greybeards gathered.

The monks gathered into a circle around Valkari, raised their hands, and began to Shout:

“ _Lingrah krosis saran Strundu’ul, voth nid bahlaan klov praan nau_.”

It was like standing in a hurricane, as their voices resounded around her, piercing through her and bouncing off of the walls that shook as the floor quaked. Valkari staggered from the sheer force of it at first, but quickly found her footing and she held her ground against the forces around her.

“ _Naal un Thu'um, mu onfan nii nu. Dovahkiin, naal sulyek do Kaan, naal sulyek do Shor, ahrk naal sulyek do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok_.”

Then it was over. Arngeir gave a low bow.

“Dragonborn, you have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards. High Hrothgar is now open to you.”

[]

Riften was slowly recovering from the dragon attack and everything was slowly going back to normal. The Bee and Barb had largely been rebuilt and was as busy as ever. Keerava still mourned Talen Jei, but otherwise continued as normal. Despite the bad blood between her and Valkari, she had to admire that old argonian’s strength to push through as she did.

Constance had been working hard to look after the orphans from Honourhall, and with some help, had the place largely restored. As for Drifa, given that she couldn’t bring herself to return to the Pawned Prawn, she continued to work with Constance, watching their ledgers for their supplies and being the hand of discipline when Constance was a bit too easy on Aventus, who was hell bent on making trouble to try and lift people’s spirits. Unfortunately for him no one seemed to like the trouble caused by the boy who had sought out the Dark Brotherhood.

Maven on the other hand, was struggling to keep her grip on the city. Her meadery was in shambles, and with so many of her workers lost in the attack, or having left Riften altogether, she was too shorthanded to meet the usual demand for Black Briar Mead, and it was cutting into her profits. Had the guild not returned to its very prosperous state, it might have been a greater concern for them, but as luck would have it, newer and even more influential clients were looking for their services. If Valkari had it her way, they’d have shut Maven out as quickly as possible, but Brynjolf was still playing it safe.

“She might be losing now lass, but let’s see how this all unfolds. If she falls, she falls. But if she turns it around, and we aren’t on her side, she’ll tear us apart.”

A fair point, but even so, it was perversely entertaining to see Maven squirming for control.

But perhaps the best part about coming back to Riften was being in the house with Runa again. As per Valkari’s instruction, she’d been living in the Cistern with the guild but wasn’t being trained as a thief. Niruin and Karliah kept up her archery training, whilst she helped Vekel in the Flagon from time to time, be it cooking or cleaning or just bringing food to the patrons. Valkari would have been more worried, given her own memories of serving the seedy patronage in the Flagon when she was her age, but when you were effectively the granddaughter of the Guild Master, you were treated with respect. Even if the Guild Master had the piss taken out of him.

The weeks Valkari had been away had been difficult for Runa, considering the long periods of time where contact was impossible, and the Dragon Crisis (as it was so aptly named) was only growing worse. For every step Valkari took forward, a few more villages were burned to the ground.

So it was a nice change of pace that they were able to spend an afternoon down by the lake together, where it almost seemed as though the world was as it should be. They skipped rocks out onto the water, had a play fight and Runa showed off her archery. Right now though, she sat in her mother’s lap making a daisy chain as Valkari threaded her fingers through her scraggly blonde mess.

“Does your hair ever behave itself?” she asked, frowning as she tried to pull it back into a braid with no success.

Runa shook her head, giggling.

Valkari sighed. “We’ll have to buy you a brush, little Nightingale. Or shear all of it off.”

“No, Mama!” She cried, dropping her daisy chain as she wriggled away from her. But Valkari seized her around the middle, pulling her back as she tickled her.

“We’ll shear it off and sell it to Old Mags for her rats!” she teased.

“Shear yours off first!”

“Mine isn’t a rat’s nest, unlike yours!”

She giggled and squealed in Valkari’s arms, and Valkari was laughing properly for the first time in weeks. She was dreading when Delphine would get in contact, because it meant going back to traipsing across Skyrim again and being away from Runa, leaving her here alone again. But if it meant she was safe from dragons, then she would just have to bear it.

“Val?”

Valkari looked up, ceasing in her tickling of Runa to see Hadvar of all people standing nearby, waving. And he was dressed rather inconspicuously. Runa looked between the two of them, confused.

“Why don’t you head back to the house, little Nightingale?” Valkari suggested. “It’ll be time for dinner soon.”

Runa frowned, but did as she was told, glancing back as she disappeared up to Honeyside.

“I didn’t realise you had a daughter,” Hadvar remarked as he and Valkari embraced. “You never mentioned her.”

“Let’s just say she sort of demanded I bring her home,” Valkari laughed. “She was one of the orphans from Honourhall. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Ah, I see. That’s one way to have a child come into your life.” He gestured along the bank, and they began to walk. “I’ve heard a few stories here and there. You’ve been busy. Dragonborn.” He snorted. “Was it your ma or your da who was the dragon?”

Valkari shoved him playfully, rolling her eyes.

“So how is our fair Legion holding up? Tried to execute any other Dragonborns lately?” she joked.

Hadvar shook his head. “I shouldn’t really talk about the Legion right now,” he said in a low voice. “Not here anyway.”

“Let me guess. You’re here to spy on the Stormcloaks?” Valkari asked, leading the way further along the bank, away from the city and any guards that might listen in, until they were far enough away that they could speak more freely.

“I’m gathering intel that might aid us against the Stormcloaks,” he explained. “Anything that might give us an advantage over them in this region.”

Valkari raised an eyebrow. It was true she had no love for the Imperials or the Stormcloaks, but Hadvar was a friend, and no one had to know if she were to drop an anonymous bit of intel for him…

“What if I were to tell you that Jarl Leila’s steward, Anuriel, has connections with the Thieves Guild?” she asked casually, like one might ask about the weather.

Hadvar looked at her, stunned.

“Truly? How do you know that?” he asked incredulously.

“My job is knowing things, finding out what I don’t know, and getting shit done,” she explained airily - it wasn’t an entire lie really. “I know she’s in contact with the guild and has an arrangement with them. Take that to your officers. Anuriel knows everything that comes and goes out of Riften. If Jarl Leila supplies anything for the Stormcloaks, she’ll know about it.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “This might just be the upper hand we need out here.”

Valkari nodded. “Just do me a favour. If your Legion can avoid attacking the city, I would appreciate it. After the dragon attack… Well, the people have been through enough as it is.”

“I can’t promise that Val,” he pointed out. “But I’ll give the Legate my report and hopefully she’ll decide an attack is unnecessary.”

It was the best she could hope for. At this point, it seemed more comforting to leave Runa in Nightingale Hall, where she’d be safe if Riften were to come under attack. But it was hard enough asking her to live in the Cistern, let alone the dark hall away from the rest of the guild. Karliah liked her privacy anyway, and it would be unfair to have her look after Runa when she had her own work to do.

Valkari dreaded the day when Delphine would contact her, informing her it was time to make their next move. It meant leaving again and not knowing what was going to happen whilst she was gone, and being unable to do anything about it.

But for now, it was just a matter of time and she was enjoying every moment of it that she had. So she asked Hadvar back to Honeyside to join her and Runa for a meal, if only to pay him back for his help at Helgen and Riverwood.

Valkari didn’t usually cook, as she didn’t have time before and she could rely on Iona, but the Iona had only recently recovered from a bout of cholera which had spread rapidly after the attack, and was still in no shape to be working. Valkari made sure she could still feed her children and herself under the pretence that she’d need her back up to speed quickly, but she wouldn’t deny that she was rather fond of her by now.

Valkari threw together some dinner for the three of them and they sat down to eat, as Runa talked up a storm all about what she had been up to whilst she was away. Hadvar noted that she and Dorthe would get along like a house on fire and told Valkari to bring her to Riverwood sometime. He had to leave a little early, no doubt to deliver his intel to his commanding officer, though in front of Runa he simply said he had things to do.

It would have been a pleasant evening, if not for the knock at the door. A courier was standing there, sweating slightly.

“Message for you ma’am,” he said breathlessly.

Valkari took it and paid him a couple of gold coins before he dashed off again.

Runa looked at the letter apprehensively, as did Valkari. The wax seal bore a long, slender sword intertwined with a dragon. Delphine’s letter.

“Are you going to have to go away again, Mama?” Runa asked in a small voice.

Valkari nodded solemnly and put the letter to one side. She quickly slapped a smile on her face for her.

“But not tonight. Tonight, I’m all yours, okay?”

Runa beamed.

[]

The next morning came too quickly, and Valkari had to be careful not to wake Runa as she slipped out of bed and dressed. Naturally, she had come crawling into her mother’s bed, knowing all too well it could be a long time before she came back. Valkari pulled her hair back and clipped it into place before pulling on her cloak.

There was a knock at the front door and Brynjolf let himself in.

“Pa,” Valkari greeted. “She’s still asleep, but I really have to go now.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to wake her up and say goodbye lass?” He asked worriedly. “I think she’d rather you did.”

She’d rather it too, but Valkari knew it would make leaving far more difficult, so she shook her head.

“She’s tough, and I’ll be back as soon as possible. You will tell her though...?”

Brynjolf nodded, before pulling her into a quick hug and pressing a kiss against her hair.

“Of course I will, my wee lass. Now off you go, back to your world saving. We’ll be fine down here. But, first...”

He reached into his pocket and twiddled his finger. Valkari turned her back to him.

“Close your eyes lass.”

She did as she was told and he slipped something cold and heavy around her neck. She looked down and inspected it.

It was an amulet, with two silver rings and three spikes, each embedded with a small emerald. It hummed softly between her fingers.

“An Amulet of Articulation,” he said quietly. “Might help you in that viper’s nest.”

Valkari threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Brynjolf chuckled, returning the gesture with equal enthusiasm before holding her at arm’s length.

“You really have come a long way from the wee lass who got caught sneaking out of bed, haven't you?” He shook his head, smiling. “Ah, listen to me. If I keep up like this, I really am going to sound like a sentimental old man. Off you go lass, quickly. We’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.”

Valkari hurried out through the front door before she could change her mind and took the first carriage heading for Riverwood. Lydia was already waiting outside of the inn when she arrived, having responded to the call as punctually as ever. It was good to have her around, given how reliable she proved to be.

Lydia stayed upstairs in the bar as a lookout for any potential trouble whilst Valkari headed down into the secret room to meet Delphine. She was back in her innkeeper get up, but she’d clearly been hard at work.

“I’ve got a plan on how to get you into the Thalmor Embassy,” she said, laying out several documents on the table. Maps, notes, intel… She’d been working very hard.

“And?”

“The Thalmor Ambassador, Elenwen, regularly throws parties where the rich and connected cozy up with the Thalmor,” she explained. “I can get you into one of those parties. Once you’re inside, you’ll need to get away and find Elenwen’s secret files. I have a contact in the Embassy. He’s not up for this kind of high-risk mission, but he can help you. His name’s Malborn. Wood elf. Plenty of reason to hate the Thalmor. You can trust him.”

“You’re sure of that?” Valkari was being asked to trust an awful lot lately, and whilst she was confident in her skills as a thief, the Thalmor Embassy was not going to be as simple as a run-of-the-mill sort of job. The stakes were much higher here.

“Don’t worry about Malborn. He’s not a dangerous character like you, but he hates the Thalmor at least as much as I do. Like I said, he’s a wood elf, They wiped out his family back in Valenwood in one of those purges we never hear about. Luckily, they don’t know who he really is, or he wouldn’t be serving drinks at the Ambassador’s parties. I’ll get word to him to meet you in the Winking Skeever, in Solitude. While you’re doing that, I’ll be pulling the last few strings to get your invitation to Elenwen’s party. Meet me at the Solitude Stables when you’ve arranged things with Malborn. Any questions?”

Valkari shook her head.

“Good. Be careful.”

[]

Solitude was still locked up tighter than a drum, as Delvin would say, but Delphine had managed to forge some documents to get Valkari into the city without trouble from the guards. They let her through the gates, and she headed to the Winking Skeever where she was to meet Malborn. Delphine advised she not wear her armour to avoid drawing attention to herself, given the Thalmor presence in the city, and Valkari was relieved she had as she had barely stepped through the gates when she spotted a pair of Justiciars striding through the streets. She made sure to keep her distance and slipped into the bar to find Malborn.

It didn’t take long to find him. He was sitting in the back of the bar, glancing around every few seconds and he was the only bosmer in the room.

“Malborn?”

He looked up at Valkari nervously.

“Our mutual friend sent me.”

“Really? You’re who she picked?” He scoffed, glancing her up and down. “I hope she knows what she’s doing.”

“Get a thief to do a thief’s job,” she said coolly, sitting down.

He shrugged before leaning forward and lowering his voice. “Here’s the deal. I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you. Don’t plan on bringing anything else with you. The Thalmor take security _very_ seriously.”

Valkari nodded and reached into her pack, pulling out her armour wrapped in the Shadowcloak, whilst taking her bow, quiver and sword from her person, as well as a few lockpicks. Just in case.

Malborn took the lot and stuffed it into a large sack he had stuffed under his seat.

“Okay, I’ll get this inside the Embassy for you. I’ll meet you at the party.”

And with that, he scurried off. Delphine better have been right about him, because if Valkari never saw that gear again, then she would be one contact short.

But the sun was setting and Valkari needed to be down at the stables to meet Delphine soon.

As per their arrangement, Delphine was waiting by the mill beside a carriage that Valkari presumed was bound for the Embassy. She was talking with an imperial man. As she drew nearer, he handed over a letter before climbing into the carriage.

“One of my contacts,” explained Delphine. “And the gentleman who’s getting you into the Embassy. Did you give Malborn the gear you wanted to sneak inside?”

“Malborn’s all set.”

“Good. Here’s your invitation.”

Valkari took the slip of parchment before gesturing at her current wardrobe.

“You know they’ll never let me in like this, right?”

Delphine smirked. “Of course they won’t. Here.” She held out a small parcel. “The only way you’ll get in is if they believe you’re a real guest.” She jerked her head into the mill and Valkari slipped past her to change.

Inside was a dress that had to have come from the finest tailor in all of Skyrim. It was made from a white, velvety material with cloak made from grey wolf fur. It was soft and warm, and offered plenty of freedom for movement. Valkari slipped her feet into the soft shoes it came with and pulled out her hair clip, running her fingers through her hair before stepping out of the mill.

Delphine gave her a smile. “You clean up fast.”

She shrugged. “What can I say, I'm just that good.”

“Just make sure you get in, find what we’re looking for, and leave. I’ll be waiting for you in the usual place when you get back.”

Valkari nodded and climbed aboard the carriage, sitting across from Delphine’s contact. The driver clicked and drove the horses forward into a trot.

“So.”

Valkari looked up at the contact. He was olive skinned, with dark eyes and hair that was peppered with silver.

“So?”

“You’re the one our mutual friend is sending?”

“Do you see someone else sitting in this carriage?” Valkari asked dryly.

“No, I suppose not.”

The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence until they pulled up at the Embassy. The contact gave Valkari a small, devilish smile as he hopped down.

“Remember to smile. The Thalmor hate it when their guests are ungrateful.”

He held out a hand and, rather reluctantly, she accepted it. He looped his arm around hers, forcing her to walk with him, side by side.

“And don’t forget, there are fewer places in the world more dangerous,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “You have to think like a shark if you don’t want to get eaten.”

“I can manage that. Can you?”

He chuckled lightly. “My dear, I’ve been doing this since before you were born.”

They reached the steps leading into the Embassy when they were stopped by an altmer in Justiciar’s robes.

“Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy,” he said haughtily. “Your invitations please.”

Valkari reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out her own. The altmer took the invitations and inspected them for any sign of forgery, but they seemed to pass the test as he stepped aside.

“These appear to be in order. Please go on in.”

The moment they were around the corner at the front doors, Valkari wrenched her arm free from the contact. He gave her a quizzical look.

“I don’t even know you,” she hissed, pushing the door open.

The inside of the Embassy was dazzling with light, as black and gold silk banners hung from every wall and magical flames of every colour burned brightly in floating glass orbs. Servers carried large platters filled with all sorts of food and there was a small band playing music in an alcove on the far side of the room. There were lots of people, many of whom Valkari recognised from her own business with the guild, all of them dressed in their finest clothing and jewellery.

But her attention from the party itself was drawn by the sharp clicking of heels across the marble floor and she looked around to see an altmer woman in a silk black robe trimmed with gold swaggering over. Her golden hair was combed out of her face, and she wore a heavy layer of makeup. And Valkari knew exactly who she was.

“Welcome. I don’t believe we’ve met – my name is Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are?”

Valkari moved to answer when the contact appeared at her side, beaming.

“Come now Ambassador, surely I’ve told you about Staada enough times that you’d recognise her,” he said, clapping a hand to Valkari’s shoulder in a fatherly way. Elenwen’s golden eyes flickered over to her, and it took every ounce of willpower _not_ to look like this was news to her.

“My dear Charlus, you have told me of so many of your children, I tend to lose track,” Elenwen replied. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ambassador,” Valkari said. “Father has told me so very much about you.”

“Truly? Only good things I should hope. But I am at a disadvantage. I know nothing about you. Perhaps-“

“Madam Ambassador?”

Valkari could have breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Malborn’s voice.

“What is it Malborn?” asked Elenwen, clearly resisting the urge to snap at him in front of guests.

“It’s just that we’ve run out of the Alto wine? Do I have your permission to open the Arenthia Red-?”

“Of course! I told you not to bother me with such trifles,” she hissed, before turning back to Valkari and ‘Charlus’, giving another of her cold smiles. “Apologies. We’ll have to get better acquainted later. Please, enjoy yourself.”

And she strode away, her heels clicking as she did.

Once she was out of earshot, Valkari turned to the contact. “What are you playing at?”

“This isn’t a simple heist,” he warned quietly. “This is a game. And you’re going to have to play to win, understand?”

She didn’t like the thought of someone telling her how to do her job, but she nodded. They headed for Malborn, who was pouring drinks at the bar.

“What can I get you sir, madam?”

“I’m ready when you are,” Valkari whispered, whilst she inspected the wine menu.

“Of course, let me see if I have any of that in the back.” He then added in a low voice: “I’ll wait by the door. You’ll need to get everyone’s attention for a few minutes, so we can slip out unnoticed. Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

“But no pressure,” she hissed as he passed them a glass of wine each and they turned to join the party. After a few moments, Valkari became aware that she was being watched and she turned to see Maven giving her a rather curious look. Valkari detached herself from the contact and casually made her way over.

“Nice party,” she remarked, pretending to sip the wine.

“I would ask why you’re here, but I believe I’m better off not knowing,” Maven replied in a low voice.

“I need a favour.”

“And what might that be?”

“I need you to cause a scene, long enough to get everyone’s attention,” Valkari explained lowly, keeping an eye out for any guards. “It’s just business. And besides, I’d owe you.”

Maven sighed. “Very well. I can’t possibly afford to pass up the chance of having Lady Nightingale in my debt.”

She strode across the room to a drunken looking redguard.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, suggesting something like that, to _me_ of all people!” she shouted angrily. “If this was Riften, I’d have you thrown in the dungeon!”

“What? I didn’t… No, listen, you must have misunderstood… I don’t mean to say I wouldn’t be interested, I just mean that…” He hiccupped.

“You’re a disgrace to the Empire! To think that you’re actually a representative of the East Empire Company! When people talk about a decadent, tottering Empire, it’s people like you that they have in mind!”

Heads turned, and no one even noticed as Valkari, Malborn and the contact slipped out through the door into the kitchens.

Malborn breathed a sigh of relief. “So far, so good. Let’s hope no one saw us slip out. Your gear is hidden in the larder. Just stay close and let me do the talking, got it? Follow me.”

He led them through another door, into the main body of the kitchens where a khajiit was sweeping the floor. As they entered the room, she looked up, her ears standing on end and her tail flicked back and forth.

“Who comes Malborn? You know this one doesn’t like strange smells in her kitchen.”

“Just some guests feeling ill,” said Malborn, leading the pair across the room. “Leave the poor wretches be.”

“Guests? In the kitchen?” exclaimed the khajiit. “You know this is against the rules.”

Malborn turned on his heel. “Rules is it, Tsavani? I didn’t realise that eating moon sugar was permitted. Perhaps I should ask the Ambassador-?”

“Shh!” she hissed, returning to her sweeping. “This one saw nothing.”

They stepped into the larder and Malborn shut the door behind them.

“Alright, your gear is in that chest. I’ll need to lock the door behind you, otherwise it’ll look suspicious. Hurry, I need to get back before I’m missed.”

Valkari shot both of the men a glare and they turned away as she pulled off the dress and pulled on her armour, which was waiting in the chest as promised. She grabbed her weapons, and her lockpicks were waiting in her gauntlets.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

They turned around again and Malborn unlocked the door into the Embassy.

“Good luck. And _don’t_ screw this up,” he hissed, shutting it behind them. Valkari then realised he hadn’t changed at all, nor did he seem to have weapons.

“I’m afraid that this is where we part ways,” he whispered. “My objective is a little different. Stay true to your course, and you’ll find your way. Good luck, Lady Nightingale.”

And he vanished down the hallway, disappearing around the corner. Valkari frowned, but gave it little thought. She had more important things to be attending to than one odd imperial.


	10. Unity

Valkari shoved the Justiciar's bodies into a nearby cupboard, but it took more effort than she would have liked. Unconsciousness made a person dead weight and armoured elves apparently had a lot of it. And there were only so many hiding places a person could stuff bodies. It wouldn't be long before someone discovered the intrusion and raised the alarm. So she pressed on, creeping through the shadows, loosing the odd poison-tipped arrow when simply sneaking wasn't enough. It shouldn't have surprised her to learn that the magical wards around the Embassy rendered the Shadowcloak almost useless.

By the time Valkari reached the courtyard leading to Elenwen's Solar, the halls of the Embassy were nearly emptied of guards or guards wondering where the other patrols had gone. The bosmer and khajiit servants were good enough not to raise the alarm if they ever caught sight of her, simply averting their eyes and acting as though they never saw a thing.

The courtyard proved much trickier to cross. There were plenty of guards and the snow meant she'd leave tracks wherever she went. And she was out of poisoned arrows. It seemed that blood was the only option this time. So she cut a bloody path across the courtyard, killing every guard that came running in her direction. The wizard guarding the entrance to the Solar threw bolts of lightning that failed to knock aside the dagger as it flew, sticking him right between the eyes.

Just inside the door were two guards who didn't get the chance to scream as they fell dead to the floor when another wizard burst into the rooms, though his own robes were far more elaborate than the guard at the door.

"What's going on-?!"

An arrow lodged in his windpipe and he crumpled as he slumped to the floor, revealing a raggedly dressed nord standing there. Gissur, one of the lowlifes from the Rat Way.

"You..." she growled, drawing her blade.

Gissur's eyes widened in fright.

"Lady Nightingale?" he squeaked. "No, please! You don't understand-!"

"You've been leaking information to the Thalmor," Valkari snarled, advancing menacingly on him.

He was pallid and back pedalled away from her as quickly as possible, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor, sweat beading down his face.

"I didn't mean- I didn't want-!"

She silenced him as she had silenced the others, his neck weeping crimson across the floor. He was carrying a substantial amount of coin, which Valkari took for herself. It wasn't like he'd be needing it anymore, after all.

Now alone in the Solar, she had the freedom to search without fear of interruption, for the moment at least. A flight of stairs led up to what could only be Elenwen's office. It was impressive. The Ambassador liked to live in comfort, it seemed.

Behind the oak desk sat a throne-like armchair with the golden Eagle of the Dominion carved into the top. A pouffe sat beside the chair with a half-eaten box of fancy altmer chocolates sitting on top, and there was an entire glass case filled with various bottles of wines, some looking to be a hundred years old or more. A delicate wind chime hung at the window, made from finely cut glass that looked like it might break if she so much as touched it. Plush rugs covered the floor and on the wall was a painstakingly perfect portrait of a family of altmer, most likely Elenwen's. The drapes were made from the richest velvet imaginable and Valkari knew even Maven Black-Briar couldn’t afford such a prestigious office.

And standing in the corner was a locked chest. No doubt where Elenwen kept her top secret documents. The lock was child's play compared to some of the others Valkari had seen.

"Should have invested in better security rather than fancy chocolates, Elenwen," she muttered venomously, a smirk curling onto my lips as she opened the chest.

Inside were small, leather bound journals marked with names, and a recently-opened letter sat at the very top. But the journals had her immediate interest.

_Thalmor Dossier: Ulfric Stormcloak_

_Thalmor Dossier: Delphine_

_Thalmor Dossier: Niraen_

_Thalmor Dossier: Charlus Luscinia (real name unknown)_

Valkari shoved the dossiers into her pack before turning to the letter. She could address the contents of these later.

_First Emissary Elenwen,_

_We anticipate a breakthrough in our efforts to uncover the party or power behind the dragon resurrection phenomenon. An informant has identified a possible lead, whom we have brought back to the Embassy for a full interrogation. The subject is obstinate, but by all indications is holding back the information we seek. I have authorized Intermediate Manual Uncoiling - I do not expect more will be necessary, unless you feel time presses._

_I know you prefer to be present for the final questioning; I will inform you immediately when the subject is fully receptive. Two days tell the tale._

_In the meantime, if you wish to audit our technique, your expertise is welcome, as always. I have placed the prisoner in the cell closest to your office stairs, for your convenience._

_-Rulindil, 3rd Em._

There was a distant blast, and Valkari peered out of the window to see that part of the Embassy had caught fire. That contact's work, no doubt. She was running out of time.

[]

Valkari hurried down the stairs leading beneath Elenwen's office and found herself in a large prison combined with a torture chamber. A bloody rack stood in the centre of the room, and to one side there was numerous torture instruments hanging on the walls, from whips to manacles. Taking down the single guard was easy enough, and she peered into the closest cell. Inside was a young breton with tangled brown hair, and innumerable purple welts across his chest.

"Etienne?" Valkari breathed, kneeling down.

"Please… I already told you… I don't _know_ anything else," he whimpered.

"I'm not here to torture you, Etienne," she said softly, tilting his head back. His eyes widened.

"Miss Val… Is that really you? What are you doing here?" Blood dribbled down his lips as his chest heaved.

"Never mind that. Let's get you out of here."

She picked the locks on his manacles quickly and helped him to his feet. He was trembling, but alive and able to stand. He forced his hair out of his eyes.

"I didn't want to tell them anything," he said quietly, and she suddenly remembered just how young he was. She shook her head.

"The Thalmor can break anyone when they put their minds to it. Just… Try and gather your strength. You're going to need it if we're going to get out of here alive."

He nodded, before jerking his head to the other cells. "They have someone else… We can't… I wouldn't usually-"

"I know. Here." Valkari handed him a couple of picks. "Get them out. I need to look for something first. Then we'll find a way out."

Etienne nodded and hurried to the other cells whilst Valkari proceeded to the desk beside the cells. Ignoring the blood-stained whip, she pawed through the notes left behind until she found something of interest. It was another of those Thalmor dossiers, but this one was labelled 'Esbern'.

His was a name she knew. Some nutty old man living down in the Rat Way, paying the guild to keep his presence there a complete secret. As far as Valkari knew, he'd been down there for years. She'd gone with Vekel to take food to him a few times, but he never opened the door. He accepted it through a slot, just big enough to see his eyes through. A paranoid one, that man.

_As we are still in the dark as to the cause and meaning of the return of the dragons, I have made capturing Esbern our top priority, as he is known to be one of the experts in the dragonlore of the Blades. Regrettably, we have yet to match their expertise on the subject of dragons, which was derived from their Akaviri origins and is still far superior to our own (which remains largely theoretical)._

_The archives of Cloud Ruler Temple, which is believed to have been the primary repository of the oldest Blades lore, were largely destroyed during the siege, and although great effort has been made to reconstruct what was lost, it now appears that most of the records related to the dragons were either removed or destroyed prior to our attack. Thus Esbern remains our best opportunity to learn how and why the dragons have returned. It cannot be ruled out that the Blades themselves are somehow connected to the dragons' return._

_We have recently obtained solid information that Esbern is still alive and hiding somewhere in Riften. Interrogation of a possible eyewitness is on-going. We must proceed carefully to avoid Esbern becoming alerted to his danger. If he is indeed in Riften, he must not be given an opportunity to flee._

It was what Valkari had been sent to find, so she pocketed it quickly before returning to Etienne as he freed the other prisoner. To her surprise, she was an altmer, very old and grey haired but an altmer nonetheless.

‘They torture their own people,’ she thought disgustedly.

“I’m assuming you are no friend of our captors,” the altmer said, smiling down at Valkari and Etienne. She had to be at least seven feet tall, and it made Valkari feel very small.

“I’m not. My name’s Valkari.”

“My name is Niraen, of House Rilis. Though I suppose these days, that means very little,” she sighed.

“Why did Elenwen have you locked up?”

“Because I ‘defy the Dominion’ apparently,” Niraen said disgustedly. “This is not the Aldmeri Dominion I fought for. This… abomination is simple tyranny… If Ayrenn could see this, she would weep.”

Valkari frowned, but when she opened her mouth to ask, Niraen shook her head.

“No, now is not the time for an old woman’s stories. We must leave this place. The longer we stay, the more danger we are in,” she insisted. “I will answer whatever questions you have later.”

“Fair enough. But the way I came in isn’t an option. Any ideas?” she glanced between Niraen and Etienne, the latter raising his hand.

“I sometimes saw the guards dragging bodies over there… to the trap door… Looked like they were dumping them. Might be a way out?”

Valkari nodded, turning to lead the way to the trapdoor he had described. There were blood stains all over the floor. Definitely where they were dumping bodies. It was locked, and even she couldn't pick it open.

"Do you think that guard has a key?" she asked.

But no sooner than she'd asked, she heard a door swing open and a familiar clanking of metal. Their time was up, it seemed. Valkari thrust a dagger into Etienne's hands.

"Don't do anything rash, and do what I say," she hissed. "If we're lucky, you won't have to use it."

He nodded and swallowed hard.

"Listen up spy! You're trapped in here and we have your accomplices. There's no way out."

Valkari drew the Shadowcloak around herself (it seemed they didn't think that magical wards against invisibility were a needed precaution in the dungeons) and peered around the corner. There were two of them, each with their own prisoner. One was Malborn. The other was Delphine's contact.

"Surrender immediately, or they both die."

Valkari moved out into the open, readying her bow as the guards waited for any sign of movement.

"Very well. Then we'll start with-"

The guard holding the contact crumpled as the arrow pierced her throat and she fell to the ground, gargling and clutching at her neck. The contact immediately grabbed the other guard, forcing them to free Malborn who promptly leapt over the railing to the ground below. He landed catlike and immediately made a sprint towards the group.

The contact and the guard struggled on the balcony above, and Valkari couldn’t get a clear shot.

"Go!" the contact cried. "Take the others and go!"

"You fucking well think I'm going to-?!"

"JUST GO!" he roared, throwing the guard across the floor, diving for the sword strapped to the dead one's waist.

There was no more time to argue or demand answers. More guards would be arriving any moment now, so Valkari ran for the dead guard on the floor and grabbed the key from his waist. She tossed it to Etienne who scrambled to unlock the trapdoor whilst Valkari turned back to the balcony.

Taking a running jump, she grabbed the railing and pulled herself up. The guard tossed the contact to the floor and advanced on him. She had one clear shot, and her arrow buried itself deep into the guard's back.

He gave a tiny 'oh' before hitting the floor. Valkari tore the arrow from his back.

"Come on!" she yelled, swinging herself back over the railing and hurrying for the open hatch to freedom. He wasted no time in following behind. He was sporting a cut lip and a few bruises, but beyond that he seemed unharmed.

"Soran, by the way," he said all too cheerfully, inclining his head as he dropped to the floor.

"Valkari."

Niraen and Etienne were waiting in the passage below, and a very familiar stench filled her nostrils. Beyond the tunnel was a cave. Daylight came in through the crevice on the other side, but standing between them and freedom was yet another frost troll.

"Well, now we know what they do with the bodies," Valkari hissed. "Alright… I can use my Shouts to hold it off, whilst the rest of you get out. From there…" She shook her head. "Let's go."

[]

Getting past the troll was all too easy compared to the chaos that had been the Embassy. Malborn ran off on his own accord to Nocturnal-knew-where, whilst Etienne headed back to Riften. Hopefully to warn the guild that the Thalmor would be passing through soon.

In the meantime, Valkari, Soran and Niraen headed for Riverwood together. The elderly mer might not be at her prime anymore, but she knew things that no one else did and hopefully could shed some more light on the Thalmor's activities. Valkari was certain Delphine would appreciate it, if she could let go of her paranoia for five minutes.

Back in the Sleeping Giant, Delphine was waiting nervously in the secret room.

"Did you learn anything useful?" She asked, before realising Valkari wasn't alone. "What is this?"

"Now, now Delphine," chuckled Soran, waggling a finger. "We must always be prepared to accept new allies."

She glared at him. "Very well. So… _Did_ you learn anything?"

Valkari dropped Esbern's dossier onto the table.

"It seems your gut was wrong. The Thalmor know nothing. They're as desperate as we are, trying to figure it out."

Her frown deepened. "Really? I find that hard to believe. Are you sure?"

"Why send me at all if you're not going to believe me?" Valkari snapped, feeling completely drained. This whole mess was wearing her thin.

"You're right, you're right. I was just so _sure_ it was them…" She sighed, running a hand over her face. "If not the Thalmor, who? Or what?"

She nudged the dossier forward. "They seem pretty certain that some Blade named Esbern knows something."

"Esbern?" She cried. "He's still alive? I thought the Thalmor got him years ago! That crazy old man… Figures that the Thalmor are on his trail though, if they're trying to find out what's going on with the dragons."

"They are getting desperate," Niraen mused. "The sheer volume of resources they are pouring into their investigations speaks for itself."

Delphine's eyes snapped onto her.

"Speaking of, you are aware you may have just led a Thalmor agent right down here?" she growled, narrowing her eyes.

"And you are quite aware you are speaking to the champion of Queen Ayrenn herself," Niraen laughed. “If you think me a threat at all, I would say you were with the Thalmor yourself."

"Don’t ask," Valkari muttered, before Delphine could retaliate or even ask who Queen Ayrenn was. "But she's on our side. For now, Esbern. They think he's hiding down in Riften. And I know where to find him." Delphine looked back at her in surprise. She shrugged. "Growing up in the Thieves Guild means you know _everyone_ living in the Rat Way."

"Then you're Jordis' brat? Never would have guessed it." She shook her head. "Never mind. For now, just get down to Riften before the Thalmor do. Our little surprise has thrown them into disarray, but it won't stop Elenwen from sending someone to get there ahead of you. Oh, and if you think I'm paranoid, you're going to have a hard time getting Esbern to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the Thirtieth of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

[]

Valkari hadn't expected to be back in Riften so soon, but it was only going to be a very brief visit. She had to get down into the Rat Way ahead of the Thalmor, but she didn't want them to find out about Runa or her connections with the guild. She wasn't about to make any of them a target for her actions. What she had done in the Embassy, though justified, was rash and actually incredibly stupid. It just didn't do to make enemies with the Aldmeri Dominion, especially when they had eyes everywhere. Gissur had proved that.

So rather than head down to the Ragged Flagon, Valkari headed for Riftweald Manor. Ten years later, and the house was still unoccupied. Some said it was cursed and after a few accidents with new residents, no one dared go inside. Except for Valkari of course. Shortly after restoring the Twilight Sepulcher, she'd returned to the Manor to clean out whatever Mercer had taken, including the bust of the Grey Fox. And set up a stash of her own, with a few personal touches and defenses. There were perks to having Nocturnal’s favour.

There was a passage way leading straight into the Rat Way Warrens through the basement and it would hopefully lead her straight to where Esbern was hiding.

Valkari had gone alone on this adventure. Lydia (as useful as she was) would make too much noise with her armour. So Valkari kept low and kept her bow at the ready. And sure enough, there they were in their black and gold robes and their hoods drawn up.

"Idiots, we need to find him before the Blades do!"

"It'd help if we even knew where to look! These wretched sewers must stretch beneath the entire city!"

"If you're not careful, I'll make sure you never see daylight again. Now keep looking, that old man must be around here somewhere."

Valkari dropped down to a lower ledge silently. She had the upper hand here. How many years had she spent running around these sewers? There wasn't a corner that she didn't know, and she was fortunate that she knew exactly where to find Esbern.

So it was with a very smug feeling that she slipped through the tunnels without getting caught by a single Thalmor agent. She wanted to kill them, but she restrained herself where possible. She didn't need to give them any more reason to hate her than she already had.

After ten minutes, Valkari came to the heavy wooden door where Esbern lived. She rapped her knuckles on the wood, checking over her shoulder for any sign of the Thalmor, but all she could hear was that woman muttering nonsense to herself as usual.

The metal slat opened.

"Go away," said Esbern from inside, and he moved to slide the shutter closed again. Valkari stuck her hand in the way, forcing it to stay open.

"Calm down Esbern, I'm not your enemy," she said, peering through, even as he slammed the shutter on her fingers. Count to ten…

"W-what? No, I'm not Esbern! I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I'm not trying to hurt you," she implored, her fingers starting to numb. "It’s Valkari, from the guild. The Thalmor are looking for you, they know you're down here!"

"Ha! And chances are you're with the Thalmor, and this is a trick to get me to open this door!"

"Delphine sent me! Where were you on the thirtieth of Frostfall?"

Esbern froze, and pulled the shutter all the way open again. From what she could see, he was startled.

"Yes… Yes I remember… Delphine really is alive then? You'd better come in then and tell me how you found me. And what you want."

He closed the shutter again and she heard the rattling of chains and locks.

"This'll take just a moment," he called. Delphine really hadn't been joking when she said he was paranoid. Valkari bet even Mercer couldn't have broken through this door. "This one _always_ sticks… There we go. Just a couple more."

With a couple more clicks, the door swung open.

"Come in, come in," said the old man, beckoning me in. "Make yourself at home."

She stepped inside. It wasn't a very large space, literally big enough for only one person. One half seemed to be a kitchen, whereas the other half was a combination of a study and a bedroom, which was covered with books and scrolls. She heard the clicks of locks and chains and saw he had locked the door again.

"There. Now we can talk. Come, come." He led her over to the study area, quickly grabbing some books off of a stool and setting them aside. "Forgive me for the mess. I wasn't expecting company."

"Perhaps I should have written ahead," Valkari remarked dryly, taking the seat as he sat opposite her.

"And given me a chance to run? How kind," he grunted. "So, Delphine keeps up the good fight after all these years? I thought she'd have realised by now that it's hopeless. I tried telling her, years ago…"

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet? What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on?" He cried, shaking his head. "Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said. The dragon from the dawn of time, who consumes the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife! Alduin will devour all things and the world will end! Nothing will stop him."

Esbern shook his head hopelessly, getting to his feet and rubbing his head. "I tried to tell them. They wouldn't listen. Fools. It's all come true. All I could do was watch as our doom approached…"

"Alduin? You mean the big black dragon? The one who's raising the others?"

Valkari knew the name. Every nord did, seeing as he was an integral part of their very history. The dragon who heralded the end times, and once enslaved the entire world under his iron rule, until he was defeated by the Ancient Nord Heroes millennia ago.

"Yes, yes, you see you know, but you refuse to understand," he stressed, turning back to her.

"So you mean, it's the literal end of the world?" Valkari asked, something icy sliding into her stomach.

"Oh yes. It's all been foretold. The end has begun. Alduin has returned. Only a Dragonborn can stop him, but no Dragonborn has been known for centuries. It seems that the gods have grown tired of us. They've left us to our fate, a plaything of Alduin the World Eater."

Valkari cleared her throat, slipping out of her seat. "I think you'll find that that's not the case."

"Is it not? All these years, and the Blades never found another heir of the dragon's blood."

"Until now." Esbern looked at her curiously, and with her mouth very dry, she said: "I'm Dragonborn."

" _What_ ?" He breathed. " _You_ are Dragonborn? An heir of the blood?"

She nodded stiffly. Even after all this time, she wasn't completely comfortable accepting the title.

"Then… Then there's still hope." He clapped his hands together, as though in prayer, before beaming and grasping her upper arms. "The gods have not abandoned us! We must… We must go. Quickly now. Take me to Delphine. We have much to discuss…" He dropped my arms and began rifling through the books and scrolls on his desk. "Give me just a moment, I must gather a few things…"

He grabbed a pack from under the desk and began to shove books inside as Valkari crossed to the door to undo the locks. It was best they weren't in the way when they had to go.

"I'll need this… No, no useless trash… Where is my annotated annuad?" He muttered.

"The Thalmor are here in the Rat Way as we speak, we need to go now," Valkari said, checking through the shutter. It was still clear for the moment, but no doubt they'd be finding their way around soon.

"I know that time is of the essence, but we mustn't leave secrets for the Thalmor," he insisted, grabbing a scroll and lighting it in the brazier, promptly setting everything else alight and letting out a devious chuckle as he did so. "Yes, that will be good enough. Let's be off."

Valkari nodded and wrenched the door open and lead the way. There was an old pipe that dumped out into the canal nearby. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it'd get them out quickly and without running into any of the Thalmor.

[]

The secret room back in the Sleeping Giant felt much more crowded than usual as Valkari and Esbern squeezed in. Niraen was occupying a seat in the corner, looking at a scrap of parchment, Soran and Delphine were standing at the head of the table, conversing quietly whilst Lydia sat in the corner, sharpening her axe.

They all looked up as the two of them entered, and it looked as though Delphine might not have budged an inch since Valkari had left.

"Esbern," she breathed in relief, cracking a smile.

"Delphine! I… It's good to see you. It's been a long time," said Esbern, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

She nodded, and shot Valkari a quick smile. "Now, I assume you know-"

"Oh, yes, yes. Dragonborn! Indeed, yes, this changes everything," Esbern rambled as he dropped his pack onto the table and began to root around inside it. "We must locate… Let me show you… I know I had it here somewhere."

"Esbern, what-?" Delphine began exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

"Give me… Just a moment… Ah, here it is!" He pulled out a leather bound tome and set it on the table, beckoning everyone over. Lydia put herself between Valkari and Soran, who simply cleared his throat and took Delphine's other side instead. Once everyone was huddled around, Esbern opened the book, revealing a very old map of Skyrim.

"You see. Right here. 'Sky Haven Temple'," he said, pointing to the mark on the map. "Constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in the Reach during their conquest of Skyrim."

"Do you know what he's talking about?" Delphine asked me. Valkari shrugged, and it seemed no one else knew either.

Esbern simply looked around at them all, flabbergasted.

“Are you saying that _none_ of you have ever heard of Alduin’s Wall?”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Niraen suggested calmly.

"Hm yes… Yes, now, where was I… Ah, yes. Alduin's Wall. It is where the Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. Part history, part prophecy. It's location has been lost for centuries, but I found it again. Not lost, just forgotten. The Blades archives held so many secrets… I was only able to save a few scraps…"

"So you think that Alduin's Wall will tell us how to defeat Alduin?" asked Delphine.

"Possibly. There's no guarantee, of course."

"It's more than we had before," Valkari said, shrugging. "I'm in."

"As am I," added Lydia. All around, the others were nodding.

"The Thalmor were once an arm of the Dominion dedicated to peace for all," Niraen said firmly, hands folded behind her back and standing tall (her head nearly touched the ceiling). "Now, they are little better than the Veiled Heritance. Racist idiots with delusions of grandeur. If assisting the Blades will do any good, then I am with you. I will provide whatever help an old woman may offer."

Delphine nodded, even though her face was fixed in a stony expression. She obviously still didn’t trust Niraen. She turned to Valkari. "I know the area of the Reach that Esbern is talking about. Near what's now known as Karthspire, in the Karth River Canyon."

"Right. And if this is the Reach we're talking about, then perhaps we're best off going together," Valkari suggested.

"Agreed. Let's get going."


	11. Haven

Reaching Sky Haven Temple was a little more difficult than Valkari had imagined, given that the entrance sat directly behind an entire camp of Forsworn savages. Getting past them required a great deal of speed and strength, and she suspected it was only their own numbers that saw off the worst of their defences. Even in her old age, Niraen could still swing a sword as well as any of the others, and her magic was just as impressive.

Then there were the puzzles and traps to keep them from proceeding any further, though Esbern was more than helpful in navigating their way past them without anyone ending up burnt to a crisp.

Still, the long journey was worth it when they finally reached the temple entrance. A gigantic cavern opened up before them, and a stone plateau filled most of the room. On the far side was a high stone wall, with a face carved into it, likely concealing the door. Valkari wandered up the steps of the plateau, taking it all in.

"How was this ever lost?" she wondered.

"Mortal memory is a curious thing," Niraen said simply.

Esbern knelt down and wiped his hand over the floor, revealing deep rings engraved into the floor before the stone face.

"Ah yes, this is it," he murmured. Everyone looked around at him. "An Akaviri blood seal… They were known for such magic. It requires blood to open the way. Your blood, Dragonborn."

Valkari made her way over to where Esbern was standing and knelt down. It looked like plain stone, but upon closer inspection, countless intricately carved channels were woven into the surface. Somewhat hesitantly, she took a knife and, pulling off a glove, nicked her palm, letting the blood dribbled onto the stone. It glistened crimson for a moment before seeping into the stone, and moments later there was a loud rumble as the stone face began to move, revealing a flight of stairs leading to a pair of stone doors.

"There it is," breathed Lydia. "You should go first Val. You _are_ Dragonborn. It's your honour to be the first to step inside."

She glanced over to Esbern and Delphine, who both nodded in agreement. Valkari straightened up and Niraen quickly healed the cut in her palm. She smiled and Valkari returned it, before making her way up the steps into Sky Haven Temple.

The main hall was vast, with sunlight shining in through a hole in the ceiling. There was a long, stone table standing in the centre of the room, with countless corridors and staircases leading off to other parts of the temple. But perhaps the most intriguing part of the entire room was the carvings on the far-right wall.

Valkari approached it as Delphine lit the braziers in the room with a wave of her hand, lighting the room.

The centre piece of the wall was a gigantic dragon she could only assume was Alduin, and it appeared that he was falling from the very sky, whilst three warriors seemed to be meeting him in combat. The left side of the wall was a story she knew well, when dragons ruled the world and mortal men came together to defeat them, earning their freedom as their rebellion took hold and they overthrew their overlords. Then there was the right side of the wall, and one thing in particular caught her eye.

There, holding a bow against a stream of dragon fire, was Valkari. There was no mistaking it, it had to be her. Even her armour was carved into the stone with the same incredible detail that the Akaviri were so well known for – the crest of the Nightingales was there and all.

“Strange, isn’t it?” said Niraen, standing at Valkari’s side, staring up at the mural. “How we think we control our lives, when really it was all planned beforehand.”

Valkari looked up at the altmer curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“A very, _very_ long time ago, when I was still young and strong, I died,” she began. “My soul was stolen from me, and what remained of my spirit was sent to Coldharbour. With the help of the friends I met there, I escaped. Soulless, but now alive once more.”

Valkari stared at her like she might be mad. “How is that possible?”

“Dark magic, woven by a very powerful necromancer… Mannimarco,” she spat. “He gathered souls for Molag Bal in an attempt to drag Tamriel into Coldharbour. Mine was among them. And, by what I thought was chance, I ended up being one of the few to fight against his plot. But it wasn’t chance… It was what the Scrolls had foretold.”

She smiled grimly.

“I wonder… Do the Scrolls only influence certain parts of our lives? Or does fate control us entirely? Do we really have any choice whatsoever?”

Valkari didn’t answer immediately, staring up at the carving of herself.

“You said you served the Aldmeri Dominion under someone called Ayrenn. But… I’ve never heard of her.”

Niraen hung her head. “Of course you haven’t… History forgot my Queen in the wake of Tiber Septim and his dynasty. It forgot our struggles, our victories, our losses, and our hardships. We always said that history would never forget… But history always does.” She smiled gently. “Ayrenn’s dream for the Aldmeri Dominion was a beautiful one. The altmer, bosmer and khajiit, true equals who would come together and unite our strengths under one banner. We fought against the racist isolationists who believed Ayrenn made a mistake in ‘elevating’ the bosmer and khajiit. We weathered many storms, stood strong against the fiercest of enemies… and now the Thalmor have twisted and corrupted it to their own ends. I dread to think what they will do to achieve what they want.”

“And what’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “The Thalmor do not share such intimate details with their prisoners.”

“But why were you a prisoner if you were such a big hero?” asked Valkari, feeling puzzled.

“Because I am a relic of a time the Thalmor wish to forget. A time where they stood alongside the other races and not over them. Because I argued them, because I love a woman of a ‘lesser race’ and because, above all, people listened to me.” She gave Valkari a very serious look. “Nothing is more dangerous to evil than the truth. If people were to remember the First Aldmeri Dominion and what it stood for, they would fight the Thalmor. But they don’t, so they won’t unless they already oppose what they stand for.”

"So, does it show how they defeated him? Isn't that why we're here?" said Delphine, drawing Valkari’s attention back to the matter at hand.

"Patience, my dear," grumbled Esbern, waving a finger for a mage light to hover closer to the carvings. "The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism. This here, coming from the mouths of the Nord Heroes – this is the Akaviri symbol for 'Shout', but there is no way of knowing which Shout is meant."

"So they used a Shout to defeat Alduin?" asked Soran, eyes scanning over the wall. "No wonder only a Dragonborn could defeat Alduin. It would probably take years to master otherwise."

Esbern nodded. "Indeed, indeed. Yes. Presumably it is something rather specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself. Remember, this is where they recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return."

"So we're looking for a Shout then," murmured Lydia, scratching her chin. "And by the looks of this carving, one that can knock a dragon out of the sky."

"Have you ever heard of something like that?" asked Niraen, looking down at Valkari.

She shook her head.

"Damn it," cursed Delphine. "Well we're not going to get anywhere by standing here, scratching our heads. The sun will be going down soon. Let's get something to eat and rest – we'll sort out the details in the morning."

[]

The following morning, Valkari stepped out into the courtyard of the temple. Training dummies and archery targets had been set up nearby, and there were shelters that overlooked the valley below. A fine mist hung in the air, and she couldn't help wondering how no one had ever found this place after it was lost. But she wasn't the only person out in the courtyard.

Sitting at the edge of the cliff, in the middle of her meditation, was Niraen.

Valkari hesitated to approach when she said: "You are troubled, Valkari. Perhaps an old mer might lend you her ear."

So she sat beside her, looking down into the valley, pulling her knees up to her chin as she sat there, legs crossed and back straight, her hands in her lap. After a moment, she opened her eyes and turned to look at Valkari with her bright blue eyes.

"What bothers you?" she asked kindly. "Is it Alduin?"

She nodded. "Back when Helgen was destroyed... A lot of people died."

"Ah. I see." She turned her attention to the cloudy sky. "And you now feel guilt? That you witnessed that destruction, and did not act."

She nodded, feeling something heavy sitting in her chest.

"We are not all born with the desire to embrace our destinies. Many heroes have tried to escape their fates, before it ensnares them beyond hope," she said wisely. "What matters is not that you tried to run, but that you turned to face the tiger - or in this case, dragon. Such courage is rarer than you might believe. And in my opinion, you have done exceedingly well these past weeks."

In that moment, Valkari couldn't refrain from smiling even a little. "Thanks."

"Of course, Valkari. And should you ever need to talk, I will be here in the temple." She smirked. "An old woman needs someone to advise when her ability to swing a sword is diminished as mine is."

"You're not _that_ bad," Valkari laughed, leaning back on her hands with her legs crossed in front of her. "I was horrific when I was younger. Still am."

And somehow they launched into conversation, swapping their stories of their trials and adventures, and Valkari realised that maybe some of the honourable sorts weren't that bad after all. And it certainly was nice to hear that Valkari was hardly the first to feel so tired and worn – she'd always wondered how all the heroes of old had done it, and it was something of a relief to know that they'd handled it about as well as she was. Some even worse, by some accounts.

"Raz never got around to telling me about the time he 'rode a guar naked through an argonian temple'," Niraen sighed. "I do miss that cat."

"He doesn't sound like the sort to serve a queen, if I'm perfectly honest," Valkari said through her giggles. "And did he really tell you to get yourself caught just to take down these 'Veiled Heritance' bastards?"

She nodded, laughing. "He had to come rescue me from jail for the second time in a month. He never let me live that one down. I'm just glad…" She paused, then, in a very sad voice she said: "I'm glad he never had to see what became of the Dominion. If he had, I'm sure it would have broken his heart."

"The Dominion you talk about sounds like a dream compared to the Thalmor," Valkari muttered. "Do you ever think you could try and change minds back in the Summerset Isles?"

She laughed again, but this time rather bitterly. "From the outside, I imagine everyone believes that Alinor is very united in its opinion of the Thalmor. It is far more complex. There are many who desire isolation, much as the Veiled Heritance did. But the youth wish to see a return to Elven Dominance, but without our allies, the bosmer and khajiit. They believe we are above them, and that they should serve us; again, very much like the Heritance. If I had to choose a side, at all, I would sooner choose the isolationists than the idiots who support the Thalmor."

Niraen shook her head, huffing. "There must be another way. A better way. But my kind, as you well know, are immensely proud. Changing minds is not easy. Especially not when you're just some senile, old woman who fought in a forgotten war a millennia ago. No. I will stay, and see what I might do to assist the Blades. An old woman I may be, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

[]

By noon, Valkari had spent the rest of the morning thinking about ways to learn more about the Shout she needed to defeat Alduin, and eventually she came to the conclusion that only the Greybeards would be able to tell her more. They knew more about Shouts than anyone. If anyone could tell her, it would be them.

But the trip to Sky Haven Temple had been a very long one, and she had little motivation to go running off now. So she went to see if there was something to do to help tidy up the temple a bit.

It had been Delphine's idea to use the place as headquarters for the Blades. She seemed rather keen on the idea of rebuilding the Order to fight against the Thalmor once the dragons were dealt with, and given the people they had, it wasn't actually a bad idea. She and Esbern certainly seemed invigorated by the idea of restoring the temple and using it as a chance to start fighting back.

Unfortunately, this was much easier said than done. The temple was a complete mess, having been unoccupied for centuries, and they had very little to work with. Esbern could use his magic to some extent, but given how much there needed to be done, their numbers just wouldn't be enough. It didn't help that they had a very limited food supply. Water wasn't an issue, but dinner that night was horribly meagre, and they all knew that they'd have to start finding food somehow.

So when the sun rose the next morning, Valkari slipped out of bed, got dressed and headed for the doors alone. She'd always been a good shot after all, and a little hunting might help her relax a little.

Out in the cold mountain air for a reason other than hunting down dragons was a nice change for once. It meant taking things at her own pace and not having to worry about if her quarry got away. After all, if a rabbit got away it was no big deal. A runaway dragon meant one more village burned to the ground. And being alone for the first time in weeks was freeing in a way she didn't think was possible. She'd felt far too smothered than she usually liked, so the peaceful serenity of the wilds was very much welcome. Just give her a house to break into and rob, and it was perfect.

But the quiet wasn't to last. Valkari heard the crunching of stone behind her and she turned quickly before the assassin could strike. Her arrow caught her squarely between the eyes and she hit the ground, her dagger bouncing across the ground. Valkari narrowed her eyes and scanned the area, but she knew she was alone. The Dark Brotherhood never sent more than one assassin after all.

Valkari flipped her over and searched for orders. Inside was a folded note:

_As instructed, you will eliminate Valkari by any means necessary. The Black Sacrament has been performed – somebody wants this poor fool dead._

_We've already received payment for the contract. Failure is not an option_

_– Astrid_

Valkari balled her fist, crumpling the note. So much for that invitation then.


	12. Essence of Fire

Valkari wrote to Brynjolf, who immediately put out some feelers to try and locate whoever had performed the Black Sacrament. She could tell from his reply that he was angry, but until they knew who it was for certain, there was little they could do. The contract had been put out, and the Dark Brotherhood was honour-bound to carry it out. This was the first attempt, and it wouldn't be the last. Even Delvin, who had a long friendship with Astrid, couldn't have it nullified. Though apparently she had expressed deepest regrets over the circumstances and hoped that the time would come where it was safe to refuse the contract.

What got Valkari most about Delvin's letter was what he had said about the contract. Usually, should the person who ordered the assassination rescind the order, or die before it was carried out, then the contract was null and void, thus her life would be safe. If Valkari could just find out who wanted her dead, she could see this threat dealt with quickly. But the Dark Brotherhood was iron clad in secrecy, especially in terms of their contractors. It could be weeks before she learned who put out the contract, but she had a few suspicions. Which was why she was heading back to Riften with Lydia and Karliah in tow.

She'd planned to go alone, but everyone was adamant that she was protected until the contract was dealt with. It was a pain, but this was the Dark Brotherhood they were dealing with, and their history spoke for itself.

"You want to what?!" hissed Lydia, as Valkari explained her plan as they lurked on the fringes of the market. "Are you crazy? If that old hag finds out-"

"So she won't find out, plain and simple," Valkari said shortly. "Look, the Thalmor are pretty obvious, but I can't shake the feeling that it's her. I just need you two to keep watch for me. Karliah, you have those messaging crystals I asked for, right?"

She nodded, pulling them out. Valkari took one and held it up.

"Maven will be down at the brewery right now. She's still trying to get the place back to full production. Meanwhile, Sibbi's sitting in jail, Ingun will be down at the Apothecary and Hemming is, you know, pretty dead. The house will be empty. Lydia, you keep watch out here. If you see Maven or Ingun coming, use the crystal and I can get out before they even know I was there. Karliah, head down to the Cistern and find Brynjolf. That way I can report directly through this."

They both still looked rather wary of the plan. The Black-Briars were protected by the guild, so if Valkari was caught, she was in major trouble and it could cost the guild dearly if Maven used what was left of her influence the right way. Diminished as it was, she could still change minds and attitudes to suit her. And if Valkari was wrong about her, and she was caught… Well she'd be in even more trouble in that case, and Maven would turn to the Dark Brotherhood anyway.

But Valkari had to be certain. If it was the Thalmor who ordered it, it was out of her hands. But if she could find evidence that Maven had ordered the assassination, then that she could deal with.

So she left the pair in the marketplace, and disappeared down the back alley that led right behind the Black-Briar's manor. She vaulted the gate and proceeded to the backdoor, pressing an ear to the keyhole. It was completely silent inside. She picked the lock and slipped inside.

Valkari had never been inside Black-Briar Manor before, at least not beyond the living room when she had a meeting with Maven, but she had a general idea of the layout. The best evidence she could get would be something extremely condemning, and there were only two places Maven would keep such a thing. Her personal ledgers, and (in the case of the Black Sacrament) the cellar. And she was already right at the top of the stairs leading down into the dark, so it was her best place to start.

There were several doors leading off from the cellar, which was rather empty. Most of them were rather typical, filled with preserved food and servants' brooms, buckets and the like. But one door was locked tight, and a rather bad smell was coming from the crack between it and the floor.

"Trying to hide something Maven?" Valkari murmured, as she picked the lock carefully. The door opened and, as she suspected, the Black Sacrament laid before her, being almost identical to the one Aventus had created in his home in Windhelm.

But the Black Sacrament alone wouldn't be enough to condemn Maven – they all knew she had plenty of enemies that she turned to the Dark Brotherhood in order to dispose of them. But it was a good start – Maven wanted someone dealt with, and having the guild punish them wasn't enough. This was someone who could threaten her.

A note lay beside the ritual setup, and it read:

_Astrid,_

_I thought your people were supposed to be reliable! I've performed the Black Sacrament, I've paid the proper penance and I've waited patiently for results. If you can't handle a simple assassination, I'll find someone who can. I want this contract handled, and I want it handled immediately!_

_– Maven Black-Briar_

Those were desperate words. Maven was definitely frightened of someone and wanted them dealt with quickly. But there was still nothing that said she meant Valkari in particular. It was time to find Maven's ledgers. Hopefully there would be something written there. But she was crossing the second floor when the messaging crystal vibrated.

"Val, you need to get out of there! Maven's on her way back, and she's with somebody," Lydia's voice buzzed.

Shit.

She stuffed the crystal into her pack and hurried. She heard the front door open. There was no time to find a way out. She dove into the nearest room and hid inside the wardrobe. The footsteps were coming closer.

"…completely incompetent. Honestly, I didn't think one woman could be so difficult to deal with. Yet you insist-"

"I would remind you, Madam Black-Briar, that this particular target-"

"And I will remind you that I do not care about your personal dealings, Astrid. I want her dead!"

At that moment, the door opened and Maven strode into the room with a very familiar woman at her heels. Astrid. She wore a long dark cloak over her leathers and she had lowered her hood. She shut the door behind her as Maven took a seat, and Valkari realised they were in the drawing room. She lifted the crystal to the crack so that the others could hear the conversation as she watched and waited, praying neither of them found her. Otherwise Astrid's contract would be over much sooner than they expected.

"That little rat had the nerve to have me take part in her hair-brained scheme to nearly destroy the Thalmor Embassy. How many of their men dead, whilst a fire ravaged the barracks? I was _accused_ of being an _accomplice_! I won't have it," she barked, and Valkari realised she looked rather surly and her cheeks were flushed light pink. She had been drinking heavily, no doubt a result of her rather dramatic losses recently.

"This is because she involved you?" asked Astrid. A laugh coloured her voice. "You truly are quite petty, aren't you?"

"Quiet! I want her dead before she can become too powerful," Maven hissed. "That little wretch has the Thieves Guild under her thumb, the friendship of two of the most powerful Jarls in Skyrim, and now the people revere her as their 'saviour', all because she can kill a few dragons! Bah!"

She took a long swig of mead from her glass. Astrid raised an eyebrow, leaning against a cabinet as she folded her arms across her chest.

"They say she is Dragonborn," she remarked smoothly, adjusting her cloak. "She might well be the only one who could end this. And you'd see her dead out of fear." She laughed condescendingly. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Enough! This Dragonborn nonsense means nothing to me," Maven snarled. "Devouring a dragon's soul… What sort of ridiculous rubbish is that?"

"Plenty have claimed witness," said Astrid, strolling across to the hearth. "At this point, to deny the existence of the Dragonborn is to deny the existence of the dragons themselves. And I do believe that one completely destroyed your brewery. One which this same 'rat' proceeded to slay before devouring its very essence. Everyone heard the thundering shouts from High Hrothgar itself. They have accepted her as Dragonborn."

"I am not paying you to compliment her," spat Maven. "I am paying you to hunt her down and eliminate her at all costs. Even if you have to send your entire pathetic family to do it! Now go! I tire of this banter, and I have work to do."

Astrid gave a short bow and departed. After a few minutes, Maven followed suit, leaving her goblet on the desk and Valkari slipped out of the wardrobe. She smirked as she held the crystal up to her lips and whispered: "Did you hear that?"

"Aye lass," Brynjolf hissed down the other end. "Heard the whole thing. And you know what… I think it's time the guild became an organisation independent from Maven Black-Briar."

Valkari grinned. Now that, she liked the sound of.

[]

Taking down Maven was all too tempting for the guild, considering how restless many of them had grown under her thumb. However killing her wasn't enough. Everyone was angry that she had tried to take Valkari out over her petty spite, and they adopted Karliah's old approach when she had been hunting Mercer. Taking down Maven piece by piece would be far more satisfying. And it all started with the brewery in Riften.

"I can't believe that old hag tried to have you killed over wounded pride," hissed Karliah, as they ran across the rooftops. "I knew she was spiteful, but how many times have you protected her empire?"

"Even the most valuable of tools can become a threat," Valkari replied, leaping across to the next roof. "It seems my usefulness came to an end. Now we'll make Maven regret that."

"She lost her heir in the dragon attack, and now she's losing ground in the market," said Karliah as they slipped down to the windows of the brewery. "She's scared. I say we play up on that."

Valkari nodded as Karliah pried the window open, and they slipped inside. The brewery was empty; Delvin's handiwork. He had managed to bribe every remaining worker to stay well away from the brewery today, given what they were planning to do.

Their goal here was not dissimilar to the Goldenglow job from ten years ago, except this time the goal _was_ to level the place rather than cause a little damage. It would leave Maven scrambling, whilst the vats at the Black-Briar Meadery West would mysteriously go bad and ruin what remained of her reputation. Add in the anonymous tip sent Jarl Leila's way about Maven's more questionable dealings, and Maven was a rat in a trap.

It was hard to believe Valkari had once been so frightened of Maven, but she'd been at the peak of her power back then. Now, she was little more than a shadow of the formidable woman she had once been. She was slipping, and destabilising the ground would make sure that she couldn't catch her balance. After all, this was what the guild did best.

Karliah and Valkari split up to start planting the explosive salve the mer had created. They had to be sure that the vats went with the rest of the building and left Maven nothing to work with.

She had lost respect amongst the Thieves Guild, Dark Brotherhood and even the Thalmor now. And it was satisfying to know that Valkari was the reason.

"Not bad for a rat, eh Maven?" she murmured, as she tucked the tiny explosive package into the space beneath one of the vats.

Etienne was waiting outside, and it was him who would be igniting the salve with his magic, whilst Lydia and Cynric kept the surrounding area clear of any passers-by. Valkari didn't want to know how they were doing it, but it was buying them some much needed time. Brynjolf was occupying Maven, who was furious now that Goldenglow's owner had suddenly shut her out from purchasing honey. She was demanding a repeat of the Goldenglow job to find out why. If she only knew it was the guild behind that as well.

With the last of the explosives in place, Karliah and Valkari cleared out and rendezvoused with Etienne at the meeting point a safe distance from the brewery. The area was clear, and Valkari nodded.

He took a nervous breath, then lifted his hands as his palms started to glow.

There was a brief flash of light followed by a blast not dissimilar to twenty cannons going off at once. The windows of the brewery blew out as flames licked at the walls and roof, devouring the entire building. Further blasts indicated the exploding vats and the building belched smoke into the sky.

By the time Maven arrived to see her business going up in smoke, they were all long gone.

[]

As much as Valkari wanted to continue picking at Maven, Karliah insisted she leave the rest to the guild and return to High Hrothgar to speak about the Shout needed to defeat Alduin. Though it was disappointing that she couldn't witness the fall herself, Valkari agreed and they caught a carriage bound for Whiterun. Though not before Brynjolf lightly informed her that sales of Black-Briar mead were falling dramatically and that old Sabjorn had recently been bailed from prison. If he played his cards right, he would end up dominating the market whilst Maven crumbled. It was somewhat ironic that Valkari was undoing all of her own work, but if it ruined Maven then it was well worth it.

When they arrived at the monastery, Valkari left Lydia by the entrance before setting out to find Arngeir. He was kneeling before a shrine to Talos, and she was uncertain whether or not she ought to disturb him. Most folk didn't like being disturbed when they were in the middle of prayer.

"Dragonborn." He looked around. "It has been some time since you were last with us. What brings you to me?"

"I needed to ask you something," she said tentatively. "I learned why the dragons are coming back. And I need to be able to stop them."

He looked at her expectantly, though she could see his brow crease ever so slightly.

"I need to learn the Shout used to defeat Alduin last time."

He frowned suddenly. "Where did you learn of that? Who have you been talking to?" he asked sharply.

"I found Alduin's Wall, in Sky Haven Temple. It said that the Ancient Nord Heroes used a Shout to knock Alduin from the sky."

Arngeir shook his head, and got to his feet. "The Blades. Of course," he said bitterly. "They always specialised in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds."

"What's your problem with the Blades?" Valkari asked coolly. "Allergic to swords?"

He glared at her.

"They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learned _nothing_ from us? Would you simply be a tool in the hands of the Blades, to be used for their own purposes?" He went on, his voice harsh with disapproval.

Valkari felt her own temper rising.

"I am not a child, and I am certainly not a puppet!" she snarled. "I won't let myself be controlled, by anyone. Not the Blades, and certainly not by you!"

Arngeir shook his head, and his angry frown quickly receded. "No, no. Of course not. Forgive me Dragonborn. I have been intemperate with you. But heed my warning – the Blades may say they serve the Dragonborn, but they do not. They never have."

She scowled. "I'm not here to debate who's right or wrong. Can you teach me this Shout, or not?"

To her aggravation, he shook his head. "No, because I do not know it. It is called 'Dragonrend', but its Words of Power are not known to us. We do not regret this loss. Dragonrend holds no place in the Way of the Voice."

"If the Shout is lost, how in hell am I supposed to defeat Alduin?" she cursed, turning away from the old monk, fighting the urge to hit something.

"Only Paarthurnax, the Grandmaster of our Order, can answer that question. If he so chooses," he added firmly.

"Then I need to speak to Paarthurnax. Now," she growled, facing him and folding her arms.

But Arngeir frowned again. "You weren't ready. You still aren't ready. But…" He sighed. "Thanks to the Blades, you now have questions that only Paarthurnax can answer."

"Why haven't I met him yet? I thought High Hrothgar was open to me?"

"He lives in seclusion, on the very peak of the mountain. He speaks to us only rarely, and never to outsiders. Being allowed to see him is a great privilege."

"How do I get there?"

Arngeir sighed again, and seemed to accept that nothing he said would change her mind.

"Only those whose Voice is strong can find the path. We will teach you a Shout that will open the way to Paarthurnax."

The Greybeards gathered at the foot of an archway out in the courtyard, where a fierce blizzard blocked the path forwards. Valkari stared into the swirling abyss, and she knew to try passing through that would be suicide. Without the Shout Arngeir was about to teach her, at least.

"The path to Paarthurnax lies through this gate," Arngeir called over the howling wind. "To open the way, you must use the Shout known as 'Clear Skies'. It's words of power are _Lok Vah Koor_."

Valkari closed her eyes and focused on each word as it burned into her mind's eye, feeling the power simmering in her bones.

"Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time. The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focused on your goal, and you will reach the summit. This is your final gift from us, Dragonborn. Use it wisely."

"My name isn't Dragonborn," she called back. "It's Valkari."

Arngeir blinked slowly, then nodded. "Very well then. I wish you the best of luck, Valkari."

[]

The path was as perilous as Arngeir had described, and it took more than Clear Skies to get through. Even Valkari was affected by the cold up here, as the snow clung to her armour and dampened her boots. She drew her cloak tightly around herself, but it did nothing to keep out the chill as she ploughed through the snow that was nearly up to her knees. There were no plants, not even the kind that flourished in cold weather. What kind of crazy old coot would live up here?

The blizzard was picking up again.

"LOK VAH KOOR!" Valkari Shouted, and it dissipated once more. From up here, she could see for miles, right over the Jerralls into Cyrodiil. The Throat of the World was the highest mountain in Skyrim, perhaps even in all of Tamriel. If she had the time, she might stop to appreciate the view some more, but Arngeir had advised she kept moving for a reason. The longer she stood still to admire the landscape, the colder she got and she wasn't sure how much more cold she could take. So much for nordic resistance. She wish she had some fire salts on hand.

Finally, she came above the storm and the wind dropped. Valkari stood at the peak in the dazzling sunlight. She had to squint just to avoid being blinded, and after a moment, she adjusted. Up here, she stood above the clouds swirling below, leaving an endless expanse of blue sky above her. She'd never seen anything like it. But she wasn't given time to enjoy it, when a shadow soared overhead with a roar.

A dragon swooped directly overhead, the wind being enough to bowl her over. She landed on her knees in the snow as the dragon came to land. She barely shielded her eyes from the powder it kicked up and she scrambled to grab her bow. But the dragon didn't seem aggressive, or prepared to attack. Its stance was relaxed and it even seemed curious.

This dragon was quite unlike the others Valkari had met and slain in my travels. It was about the same size as Alduin, but its scales were a pale, silvery-green and its leathery wings had holes here and them, ragged with age. Its horns were short and chipped, and one of the spikes on its chin was broken. And unlike any other dragon, she didn't feel threatened by it. Actually, something about its presence was rather comforting.

"Drem yol lok," it rumbled in a deep voice. "Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? Why do you come to my strunmah… My mountain?"

This was Paarthurnax. This whole time, the one leading the Greybeards… Was a dragon. No wonder there was such bad blood between the Greybeards and the Blades. What Delphine might say if she knew they were hiding a dragon up here…

Valkari slung her bow over her back. "I think you know who I am."

"Yes. Vahzah. You speak true, Dovahkiin. Forgive me. It has been such a long time since I held _tinvaak_ with a stranger. I gave into the temptation to prolong our speech."

"Why live up here if you love conversation so much?" she asked. "I can't imagine you get many visitors."

Paarthurnax shook his head ruefully. "Evenaar bahlok. There are many hungers that are better to deny than to feed. Dreh ni nahkip. Discipline against the lesser aids qahnaar… Denial of the greater."

She frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Paarthurnax shook his head again.

"Drem. Patience. There are formalities that must be observed at the first meeting of two of the dovah. By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones! Match it if you are Dovahkiin!"

He opened his great maw and a burst of fire erupted from it. Valkari yelped, but there was no time to move. Yet the flames licked over her harmlessly, like a warm, tickling sensation as the Word formed in her mind. When the fire died, she looked down at herself. She was completely unharmed.

"A gift Dovahkiin," said Paarthurnax. "Yol. Understand fire as the Dov do. It is change given form. Power at its most primal. That is the true meaning of Yol. Sulyek. Power. You have it, as do all the Dov. But power is inert without action and choice. Think of this as the fire builds in your su'um, your breath. Su'um ahrk morah. What will you burn? What will you spare? Now, show me what you can do. Greet me, not as mortal, but as Dovah!"

The power surged through her like a great inferno, building on her lips.

"Yol!" she Shouted, and flames burst forth, licking across Paarthurnax's scaly hide. It didn't harm him at all, and he seemed rather pleased.

"Ah yes! Sossedov los mul! The Dragon Blood runs strong in you! It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind. So, you have made your way here, to me. No easy task for a joor… mortal. Even one of the Dovah Sos… Dragon's blood."

"Yes." Valkari hesitated. "I need to learn the Dragonrend shout, but Arngeir says he doesn't know it. He said you might be able to help me."

"Ah, I have expected you. Prodah. You would not come all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah. No. You seek your weapon against Alduin."

"The Greybeards didn't want me to come at all," she said, frowning slightly.

Paarthurnax shook his head and beckoned her towards the crumbling remains of a Word Wall, out of the wind. She seated herself against the wall as he laid across the ground.

"They are very protective of me. Bahlaan fahdonne. But I do not know the Thu'um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me. Your kind – joor – created it as a weapon against the dov… the dragons. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot even comprehend its concepts."

"But how can I learn it then?" Valkari groaned. "If no dragon can learn it, and even the Greybeards don't know…"

"Drem. All in good time. But first, a question for you: why do you want to learn this Thu'um?"

She frowned. "To defeat Alduin. This world might be a shit hole, but it's my shit hole and it's the only one I've got."

Paarthurnax let out a rumble that sounded like it might be an amused chuckle.

"Pruzah. As good a reason as any. There are many who feel as you do, although not all. Some would say that all things must end, so that the next may come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin. Would you stop the next world from being born?"

"The next world can fuck off and take care of itself."

"Paaz. A fair answer. Ro fus… maybe you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of the world. Even we who ride the currents of time cannot see past time's end. Wuldsetiid los tarohdiis. Those who hasten the end may delay it. Those who work to delay may bring the end closer."

That didn't sound good.

"But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now I will answer your question: do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven – what you call the Throat of the World?" He asked.

Valkari shrugged. "Dragons like mountains?"

He chuckled again. "This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim. Zok revak strunmah. The great mountain of the world. Here the Ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the Voice, brought Alduin to battle and defeated him."

"Using the Dragonrend Shout."

"Yes. And no. Viik nuz ni kroon. Alduin was not truly defeated either. If he was, you would not be here today, seeking to… defeat him. The nords of those days used Dragonrend to cripple Alduin, but this was not enough. Ok mulaag unsalaad. It was the Kel – the Elder Scroll. They used it to cast his adrift on the currents of time."

Valkari felt startled. "They sent Alduin _forward_ in time?"

"Hm… Not intentionally. Some hoped he would be lost forever. Meyye. I knew better. Tiid bo amativ. Time flows ever onward. One day he would surface, and so I have lived here. For thousands of mortal years, I have waited. I knew where he emerged, but not when."

"But how does any of this help me?" she asked exasperatedly. "I still don't know how I'm supposed to learn Dragonrend."

"Tiid krent… Time was shattered here because of what the Ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll here… to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound… With the Elder Scroll that was used to break time, you may be able to… cast yourself back, to the other end of the break. You could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."

So she needed to find an Elder Scroll. As far as she knew, those were kept by the Moth Priests in Cyrodiil. But it wasn't just any Elder Scroll she needed, it was the same one used on Alduin all those years ago. Hopefully it was still in Skyrim, or else she would be traipsing down to another province to find a needle in a haystack.

"Do you know where I can find it?"

"Krosis. No. I know little of what has passed below in the long years I have lived here. You are likely better informed than I."

"Maybe Arngeir might have an idea," she sighed. He'd probably know more than she did, at any rate. If not, she'd send word to Esbern. He was the next best option.

"Trust your instincts, Dovahkiin," rumbled Paarthurnax, lowering his head so his eyes met her’s. "Your blood will show you the way."

"What do I do once I have it?" she asked, getting to her feet. Paarthurnax lifted his girth from the ground.

"Return it here to the Tiid-Ahraan. Then kelle vomindok. Nothing is certain with such things. But I believe the Scroll's bond with the Tiid-Ahraan will allow you a seeing. A vision in the moment of its creation. Then you will feel – know – Dragonrend, in the power of its first expression. You will see them, wuuth fadonne, my friends – Hakon, Gormlaith and Felldir. The first mortal mortals I taught the Thu'um – the first Tongues. The leaders of the rebellion against Alduin. They were mighty, in their day. Even to attempt to defeat Alduin… suhrot hunne. The nords have had many heroes since, but none greater."

As Valkari made her way down the slope back towards High Hrothgar, she looked back over her shoulder to Paarthurnax.

"You know, when this is over," she called, causing him to look up, "we'll have that conversation."

She could have sworn she saw a smile spread over that old dragon's face at those words.


	13. The Search for Knowledge

Arngeir didn't have any information as to where one might find the Elder Scroll, but he did know where she could learn more. So Valkari was headed north for the College of Winterhold with Lydia, and hopefully they could make some headway on acquiring the necessary tools to defeat Alduin. As they travelled, Valkari couldn't help but overhear gossip in a tavern about the Black-Briars who were suffering from very poor fortune.

In spite of the damages done the Embassy, Elenwen was hosting another party. Which Maven had not been invited to. On top of that, the Black-Briar Meadery West outside of Whiterun had been closed down, due to a major pest infestation and contaminated goods, whilst other, newer competitors was already buying Goldenglow Honey by the caravan-full as they took their goods to market faster than you could blink. All in all, it seemed Maven was quickly on her way out.

They'd done such a good job of reducing her that Astrid herself arrived in the middle of the night before they reached Winterhold to inform Valkari that the Dark Brotherhood had elected to place precedence of their deal with the Thieves Guild over the contract, effectively ending any further threats on her life. Well, from Maven at the very least. Once this mess was behind her, Valkari would drop out of sight for a few years until this Dragonborn business passed and everyone forgot about her. Hopefully, her life would continue as normal from there on out.

She couldn't wait to get back to Riften to see what had become of Maven though. It would be all too interesting to see what this had done to her. It was almost a perverse pleasure to imagine it, but given that she'd tried to have Valkari killed, it seemed only fair that she take some joy in her misery.

But for now, her attention turned to the College of Winterhold. Whilst the former city itself was not all that impressive following the Great Collapse, the College itself was a sight to behold.

Dominating the landscape, with its many towers reaching for the sky and perched right on the cliff, it was the only thing of note left in all of Winterhold. And of course, the local nords regarded it with suspicion, considering how it was the only building that truly escaped the Great Collapse and thus they suspected the mages were behind it somehow.

The only way into the College was across the winding bridge across the gorge below, and standing guard at the entrance was an altmer with her hair pulled into pigtails. It looked like she had been standing out here for hours, and she stood to bar the way.

"Cross the bridge at your own peril," she said imperiously. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry!"

"We're not here to cause trouble," Valkari assured. "I need to find something, and was told I could find it in the College."

"What is it you expect to find within?" she asked, eyes still narrowed suspiciously.

"I'm looking for an Elder Scroll."

"You are? It is true that there are some here who have spent years studying the accumulated knowledge of the Scrolls. But what you seek does not come easily, and can easily destroy one without a strong will," she warned. "Regardless, it seems the College has what you seek. But the question remains, what can you offer in return? Not just anyone is allowed inside. Those wishing to enter must show some degree of skills with magic."

Valkari was worried she might say that. She had not a drop of magicka in her entire body, and the closest she could get was her Shouts, though she somehow doubted that that was what the elf was talking about.

"Would you grant entry to the Dragonborn?" asked Lydia, gesturing in Valkari’s direction.

The altmer's eyes widened. "Dragonborn? It's been so long since we've had any contact with the Greybeards…" She looked at Valkari curiously. "Do you really have the Voice? I would be most impressed to see that."

She nodded and the altmer stood to one side.

"FUS!"

A pulse of energy flew from her mouth and surged along the bridge, sending up a flurry of snow. The altmer looked at Valkari with distinct awe.

"So the stories are true! You _are_ Dragonborn! Normally you'd need to show some aptitude with one of the schools of magic, but you… I think there is much that we can learn from each other."

"I'm not here to join. I'm no mage," Valkari said. "I just need to find the Elder Scroll."

"I see. Very well then, follow me."

[]

The College was a very big place, and so they spent quite some time just trying to find their way to wherever their library might be – it was the most likely place they'd find an Elder Scroll or information on it after all. But navigating the College was proving more difficult than either of them had expected.

They passed classrooms packed with students, all scribbling down notes or practicing spells – a teacher was telling off one of her students who turned one of his classmates into a chicken, whilst in the next room over it looked like the entire class had fallen asleep as their teacher droned on and on. There were individual laboratories, some unoccupied and others with a warning sign to stay out as small explosions came from within. In another room, students were brewing potions and poisons, whilst others were enchanting objects in another. Then there was a greenhouse filled with what had to be a sample of every sort of plant in Skyrim, from Nirnroot to Blisterwort. Yet there was still no trace of any library.

Valkari was prepared to give up and stick her head into a classroom to help when she heard scuffling and arguing.

"Get… off it, Onmund!"

"Make me!"

She poked her head through the door of a small study room and saw two mages were scrambling at a bookshelf, all the while trying to slap each other's hands away. Finally, the taller of the two (an altmer) pulled away, clutching a large book in her hands and she grinned down at her friend smugly.

"I win."

The other mage, a nord with scruffy black hair, smacked her roughly on the shoulder and straightened his robes before looking up. He blinked and grinned.

"Uh, can we help you?"

"We're looking for the library."

"You mean the Arcanaeum?" asked the altmer. "I... guess I could show you the way."

"We'd appreciate it."

The mer nodded to her friend and made to cross the room before he caught her by the arm and beckoned with one hand. Sighing, she held out the book and handed it over to him. He grinned and took a seat at a nearby table and began to study.

"I'm Tarinwe Rilis," she greeted once in the hallway. "The Arcanaeum is this way."

Valkari raised an eyebrow. "Rilis? Any relation to Niraen Rilis, by any chance?"

Tarinwe blinked, eyes widening.

"You know my great grandmother?"

"She's a recent acquaintance," Valkari explained, gesturing along the hall and they began to walk.

"So how is my great grandmother? Mother and I haven't heard from her in a while. We were getting worried."

"Well we found her locked up in a Thalmor prison. We got her out though, and she's doing pretty well considering," Valkari replied nonchalantly.

Tarinwe sighed heavily. "That sounds like her. She just can't help but cause trouble even at her age. Still I'm glad she's alright."

She led them back out into the main courtyard and into the College's central building and then up a winding staircase. They came to a door at the top of the stairs, which Tarinwe pushed open. It was deathly quiet inside.

"I recommend you talk to Urag gro-Shub, the orc. He can help you find whatever it is you're looking for. I've gotta go, I've got an assignment due later today."

"Thanks. We'll tell Niraen you said hello."

She nodded before hurrying back down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Valkari shook her head and stepped through the door. It felt like stepping into a whole other world, it was so quiet. The only sound was the moaning wind, the quiet ticking of a nearby clock, the occasional turning of a page and the scratching of quills.

It was unlike any library she had seen before, with curved stone walls and bookshelves that curved with them. The shelves on the outermost wall were locked behind glass that shimmered and glowed ever-so-slightly; warding magic. Magelights were suspended in mid-air, glowing like white jewels, whilst banners bearing the College's crest hung from the vaulted ceiling. It was impossible to tell how many books might be in here. Gallus would have been enamoured with a place like this, of that Valkari was quite certain.

The students sat at their tables, some studying and making notes, others carrying stacks of books back to their shelves. All of them ignored Valkari and Lydia as they passed by, making their way to the desk at the far side of the room where an old orc was sitting. He was dressed in College robes, with a pair of round spectacles balanced on his nose as he flicked through a large catalogue, crossing something off every now and then. He looked up as they approached, set his book to one side and removed his spectacles.

"You are now in the Arcanaeum," he said, "of which I am in charge. It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum and I will have you torn apart by angry atronauchs. Now, do you require assistance?"

"I'm looking for an Elder Scroll," Valkari replied.

"And what do you plan to do with it? Do you even know what you're asking, or are you just someone's errand girl?" He snapped.

She glared. "Do you have one or not?"

He snorted. "You think even if I did have one, I would even let you see it? It would be under the highest security. Even the greatest thief in the world wouldn't be able to lay a finger on it!"

She was sorely tempted to remind him that the Moth Priests of Cyrodiil had once thought that until the Grey Fox stole one right from under their noses in the middle of their tower. But she refrained from antagonising him. It wouldn't do her any favours.

"What if the Dragonborn was asking?" she asked, smirking.

Urag narrowed his beady black eyes at her, looking her up and down. "No… You can't be the one the Greybeards were calling."

"I'd Shout to prove it, but I doubt you'd want your precious books going up in ashes. Ask the altmer who was guarding the bridge, she'll tell you."

Grumbling, the orc got to his feet and pulled out a large iron ring adorned with hundreds of keys.

"I'll bring everything we have on the Scrolls, but it's not much." He shuffled away through the rows of bookcases, out of sight. When he returned, he was carrying a small stack of books which he thumped down onto the counter. "Here you go. Try not to spill anything on them."

Thanking him, Valkari and Lydia split the stack between them and found a table in a dark corner of the library.

"This feels like a wild goose chase," Lydia murmured, flipping open one of the tomes she had been carrying.

"Could be, but I need to learn Dragonrend, so be prepared to chase geese I guess.”

"That's not comforting," Lydia hissed.

Valkari shushed her both, casting a wary eye over to Urag. She didn't need him to kick them out right now, and she had an uneasy feeling he was perfectly serious about that atronauch threat.

She took a small book bound in green leather and flipped it open.

_Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls, by Septimus Signus, the College of Winterhold_

_Imagine living beneath the_ _waves with a strong-sighted blessing of most excellent fabric. Holding the fabric over your gills, you would begin to breathe-drink its warp and weft. Though the plant matter fibers imbue your soul, the wretched plankton would pollute the cloth until it stank to heavens of prophecy. This is one manner in which the Scrolls first came to pass, but are we the sea, or the breather, or the fabric? Or are we the breath itself?_

She frowned and returned to Urag at the counter.

"This Ruminations book makes no sense," she said, holding it up for him to see.

Urag took it and chuckled. "Aye, that's the work of Septimus Signus. He's the world's master of the nature of the Elder Scrolls, but… Well. He's been gone a long while. Too long."

"He's dead?" she asked, setting the book down.

"No, no. At least I hope not. But I haven't seen him in years, and we were close. Became obsessed with the dwemer. Took off north saying he had found some old artefact. Haven't seen him since. He's somewhere in the ice fields, if you want to try and find him."

If she was going to find an Elder Scroll, then she didn't have much of a choice.

[]

Valkari hated the icefields; they were too fragile, too unpredictable. Having solid ground under her feet would be far more preferable to the thin ice as they carefully skipped over the cracks, all too aware of the icy depths and slaughterfish waiting below for the unfortunate traveller who fell through.

But they were getting close to where Septimus made his home, or at least, the rough area Urag had been able to give them. Lydia spotted it first. A wooden makeshift door set into the side of a glacier, with lit torches crackling on either side. She pried the door open and just beyond was a rickety wooden ladder.

"Let's hope we find something down here," Valkari muttered.

The bottom of the ladder deposited into a small tunnel, leading down into the cave. Lydia remained behind whilst Valkari went on ahead. There was no saying how Septimus would react to intruders, so it was best that they didn't outnumber him just as a precaution. Urag had assured her that the old man was harmless enough, but there was no saying what years of isolation had done to him.

In the heart of the glacier was a large cavern, most of which was occupied by a large box the size of a small house. Valkari could see instantly that it was dwemer in origin, from the metal it was made from right to the patterns and designs inscribed into the surface. Beside it, someone had set up a small living area and before the box was a robed figure, muttering and murmuring to himself.

"Dig, dwemer, in the beyond… I'll know your lost unknown and rise to your depths…"

Valkari cleared her throat, and the old man started violently before turning in her direction. Yet she felt like he was looking past her in a daze, rather than at her.

"Septimus Signus? I was told you might be able to tell me about an Elder Scroll," she called down, making her way towards the bottom of the cavern.

"Elder Scrolls? Indeed," he muttered, nodding as he shuffled away from the box. "The Empire. They absconded with them. Or so they think. The ones they saw. The ones they _thought_ they saw. I know of one. Forgotten. Sequestered. But I cannot go to it, not poor Septimus, for I… I have arisen beyond its grasp."

Valkari frowned, refraining from getting too close.

"Are you… alright?"

"Oh I am well. Well to be within the will inside these walls."

He was as loopy as his book made him out to be, and she wondered if perhaps the Scroll had done this to him.

"So where's the Scroll?"

"Here." Valkari glanced around, but then Septimus shook his head. "Well, here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. Cosmologically speaking, it's all nearby."

"Can you help me get the Elder Scroll or not?" she growled, fighting the urge to just threaten him.

"One block lifts the other. Septimus will give you what you want, but you must bring him something in return."

"There's always a catch," she muttered, shaking her head. "Fine, what do you want?"

Septimus approached the box again, running a withered hand over its surface.

"You see this masterwork of the Dwemer. Deep inside their greatest knowings. Septimus is clever amongst men, but his is an idiot child compared to the dullest of dwemer," he said fervently. "Lucky then that they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach, one yet lies. Have you heard of Blackreach? 'Cast upon where dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept.'" He let out a short wheeze that might have been a laugh.

"Where can I find Blackreach?"

"Under deep. Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower of Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of the first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there. Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock, to jump beneath the deathly rock."

"Where is this key?"

Septimus held up a long finger before shuffling to a nearby cabinet. From within he pulled out a box, and inside were two artefacts which he set on the table. Slowly, Valkari made her way over. One was a blank cube, and the other was a sphere with more intricate designs across the surface.

"The round one, for tuning. Dwemer music is soft, and subtle, and needed to open their cleverest gates. The deepest doors of dwemer listen for singing. It plays the attitudes of notes proper for opening. The edged lexicon, for inscribing. To glimpse the world inside an Elder Scroll can damage the eyes. Or the mind, as it has to Septimus. The Dwemer found a loophole, as they always do. To focus the knowledge away and inside without harm. Place the lexicon into their contraption and focus the knowings into it. When it brims with glow, bring it back, and Septimus can read once more."

She took both artefacts and stuffed them into her pack. So the orb would open the door, and the lexicon was to be inscribed in exchange for the information. Seemed fair. It was the answers she needed, albeit a bit of a roundabout way of getting them, but she had them nonetheless, and so it was time to proceed.

Septimus shuffled back towards the box, murmuring again. She had a feeling he wanted the Scroll for the purpose of opening the box, and whatever was inside had to be valuable if the dwemer had been so adamant on keeping it away from the world. If he got it open, perhaps she might be able to snatch it for herself, if the coin was good enough.

Valkari made her way back up the slope out of the cavern, only to come to a halt. The way forward was blocked by a grotesque mass of eyeballs and tentacles that slithered across the walls.

"Come closer," drawled a deep voice. "Bask in my presence."

It was coming from the… Whatever it was.

Instinctively she drew her sword. "What are you?"

"I am Hermaeus Mora. Guardian of the Unseen. Knower of the Unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. Most impressive," it continued.

Her palms sweated slightly. Another Daedric Prince. Great.

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, more bravely than she felt.

"Your aid to Septimus renders him increasingly obsolete. He has served me well, but his time is nearing its end. Once that infernal lockbox is opened, he will have exhausted his usefulness to me. When that time comes, you shall take his place as my Emissary. What say you?"

"Never," she spat.

The centre, bulbous eye peered more closely at me, seemingly surprised. "Is that so?"

"If you want to debate it, take it up with Nocturnal," Valkari hissed. "I'm afraid that my arrangement with her is the long-standing sort, and not one I intend to go back on."

She was never going to be like Mercer. She was never going to break her oaths as he had. She would serve Nocturnal in this life, and the next, as she had sworn to before drinking from the Ebonmere.

"Be warned. Many have fought, as you do. I have broken them all. You shall not evade me forever."

And with that last, very ominous threat, Hermaeus Mora dissipated, the eyeballs closed shut and vanishing as his thick tentacles snaked back into the point through which he had entered.

Valkari shuddered, more from fear than cold, before hurrying off up the tunnel. She wouldn't be controlled by anyone. Not the Blades. Not the Greybeards. And never by Hermaeus Mora.

[]

Alftand was like any other dwemer ruin: vast, complex, and crawling with dangers. From the automatons that patrolled its halls, to the traps left by the dwemer, and the falmer that made the tunnels their home, it almost felt like Irkngthand all over again.

Valkari hadn't told Lydia about her encounter with Hermaeus Mora for fear of how she might react. She was busy trying to convince herself it had all been a very strange daydream, though nightmare might be a more appropriate term. Perhaps when this was over, she'd go to the Twilight Sepulcher and contact Nocturnal herself. It only seemed right that she knew that other Princes had their own designs on Valkari, for whatever reason. And considering her power amongst the other Princes, she might be able to do something about it. She could only hope.

But for now she had to focus on navigating the depths of Alftand. Valkari was grateful to have Lydia with her, given that the automatons here were even more powerful than those in Irkngthand. But if this was the place where they had hidden their knowledge of Elder Scrolls, it was somewhat obvious that the dwemer would go to great lengths to protect their secrets.

Near the bottom of the ruins was what appeared to be some sort of chapel. Valkari frowned.

"I thought the dwemer didn't worship gods," she said, when they had cleared the room of falmer.

“Whatever they built this place for, it can’t be good,” Lydia replied. Then she said, “do you hear voices?”

Valkari listened carefully, and sure enough, she heard them. Creeping up the stairs, she peered in the direction of the voices. Atop the platform were two ruined dwemer centurions (thank Talos. I didn't fancy the idea of taking them in a fight), and nearby before a great gate were two people – a man and a woman, both clad in armour.

"Hurry and get this gate open!" snapped the woman. "Before anything else shows up."

"I'm trying!" the man retorted.

Both of them were dressed in Legion armour – Imperials. Valkari couldn't guess why they would be here of all places, but she doubted they were friendly. If she could just draw their attention. She grabbed a stone off of the floor and flung it across the chamber, right at the metal bars of the gate. A clanging sound filled the chamber as Valkari and Lydia ducked out of sight back down the staircase.

"What was that?" barked the woman, whirling around on the ball of her foot, weapon ready.

Lydia threw another stone across to the opposite side of the room, where it hit the ground with a clack. The pair drew closer, clanking down the steps and through the open gate at the bottom.

"Who's there? Come out!" growled the man.

Valkari lifted her bow and shot an arrow at the button on her side of the wall. The gate dropped, trapping them on the other side.

Both of the legionnaires tried prying the gate open, to no avail.

"Stop, in the name of the Emperor!"

"The lever you fool! Get this gate open!"

As they scrambled and argued, Valkari and Lydia sprinted for the gates they had been trying to open, and in a matter of moments, she had it open just as the gate below opened again.

"STOP!"

But they were inside, and Valkari quickly shut the gate behind them. The lock clicked back into place, trapping the Imperials outside.

“Damn it, open this gate!” barked the woman, shaking the bars.

"We could have just fought them," Lydia grumbled, ignoring them.

"And where's the fun in that?" Valkari laughed, striding over to the pedestal in the centre of the room as the Imperial soldiers continued shouting and trying to pry the gate open again. There was an indentation, the perfect size and shape for the sphere Septimus had given her. She placed it inside.

Immediately, the sphere began to whizz and a high ringing noise reverberated off of the walls, following by a loud grinding noise as the stone beneath their feet began to shift. They leapt back just in time as the stones around the pedestal moved to reveal a staircase beneath, with a door leading even deeper.

[]

It was like stepping foot into a whole other world hidden beneath Alftand. It seemed that Blackreach extended for miles and miles, with no visible limits. Giant, glowing mushrooms took the place of most plant life, and it almost as appeared that stars were trapped in the high, craggy ceiling. A silver river ran through the chamber, and there were pathways paved across the ground. In the distance, Valkari could make out several structures, but one in particular caught her eye.

A tower stood in the distance, and seemed to vanish through the ceiling itself. She couldn't be certain that it was the Tower of Mzark that they were looking for, but it was a place to start.

They stuck to the shadows where we could, though Lydia's clanking armour wasn't exactly made for sneaking. How they got to the tower without being detected at all was completely beyond Valkari, but she wasn't complaining as they slipped through the doors. Filthy, wounded and exhausted, it was just a relief to have gotten this far without needing to resort to their potions, which were low enough in supply as it was.

Inside was a lift, and with a flick of a switch, they were moving upwards.

"This Scroll had better be here," said Lydia.

Valkari nodded in agreement, sitting on the ground to rest a while, all too aware of the aches of her body. Not long now, she hoped.

The lift came to a stop at the end of a short hallway, leading to a large circular room filled with a tall, conical structure, and Valkari knew they were in the right place. A slope led upwards to the top of the room – the structure ended in a huge dome, dotted with crystal lenses and deep grooves. More lenses hung from the ceiling and a crystal case rested high above them.

The dome was surrounded by a glass walkway, and just above it was a stone platform with some sort of panel. This was it.

At the top of the platform, beside the panel, was the contraption Septimus had described, and Valkari placed the lexicon inside. The instant she did so, some metal covers across the panel opened, revealing bright blue buttons.

She glanced to Lydia, who gave her a stony look, and cautiously, Valkari pressed one.

The top section of the dome began to spin before coming to a halt, one of the lenses swinging around overhead into place. She pressed it again, and the dome continued to move and shift, until another button was revealed. She continued this pattern of pushing buttons and manipulating the dome and lenses until the button farthest on the left finally revealed itself.

With a single push, the lenses began to spin until they opened wide, allowing the crystal case to lower itself down above the dome. With a bright light, it opened and revealed its contents. The Elder Scroll.

Valkari leapt down from the platform and scrambled up the side of the dome to the case. The Scroll was just that: a scroll, kept in a long, gilded cylindrical case with a leather strap. She resisted the urge to peek, knowing all too well of the dangers of doing so, and she strapped the case across her back.

Lydia hurried over clutching the lexicon in her hand. She handed it over and Valkari stuffed it into her pack. She'd get that back to Septimus later, seeing as it could wait. But first, it was just the matter of getting out again.


	14. Dragon Rend

"You have it. The Kel – the Elder Scroll," rumbled Paarthuranx as they arrived at the mountain’s peak. "Tiid kreh qolas. Time shudders at its touch." He perched himself atop a cropping of rock, fidgeting and shaking his head as though irritated by flies. "There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kagaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal. Go then. Fulfill your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound. Do not delay. Alduin is coming. He cannot miss the signs."

Lydia stood back by Paarthurnax as Valkari hurried towards the Time-Wound that Paarthurnax had indicated. The air was distorted, rippling and swaying in a way that it shouldn't. This was it then.

She removed the Scroll from her back, held it in the middle of the fluttering veil and, with a deep breath, pulled it open.

Bright blue symbols shimmered in her eyes, consuming her vision as they turned into delicate moths. She felt as though she was falling, leaving herself behind as she was swept down the currents of time that were fragmented from the rest. Wind was rushing in her ears, biting at her skin through her armour until it all stopped.

Suddenly, Valkari was standing where she had been a moment before at the peak of the Throat of the World. But Paarthurnax and Lydia weren't here and the sky was the colour of blood and fire, with cracks of lightning booming through the dark, swirling storm clouds and billowing towers of smoke. All around her, Valkari could hear the sounds of fighting and roaring dragons, the corpses of the latter strewn across the mountain.

It was as Paarthurnax had said. She'd been cast back thousands of years, to the other end of the break. The day Alduin had been defeated, if only temporarily.

Just then, a nord man came sprinting into view, dressed in the armour of the Ancients. He was bloodied, but looking at him, not much of it was his own blood.

"Gormlaith! We're running out of time! The battle-!"

He was cut off by the arrival of another dragon. This one was not Alduin, being bright red and slightly smaller, but it was still bigger than most Valkari had fought. It spat a stream of fire at the man, who promptly dived out of the way before readying his axe.

"Daar sul thur se Alduin vokrii," it uttered in its guttural voice. "Today Alduin's lordship will be restored. But I honour your courage, mortal. Krif voth ahkrin. Die now in vain."

It spat more fire that the man dodged, but he was clearly fatigued. He wasn't going to be able to keep this up much longer, yet he pressed on.

"For Skyrim," he hollered, raising his axe and swinging it at the dragon's head. The fight quickly dissolved into a confused mess of swinging axes and snapping jaws, until a woman stormed forwards, her golden hair streaming behind her. She shoved the man aside and lodged her sword into the dragon's snout, pulling herself up onto its head as it reared in pain.

"Know that Gormlaith sent you to your death!" She cried, pulling her sword free before plunging it straight between the dragon's eyes.

With a great shudder, the dragon fell forward, quite dead. Valkari inched closer, but it didn't stir, nor did it begin to burn up like the others did. Of course, she hadn't existed back in this time. She was little more than a ghost, watching events as they unfolded, a fact further confirmed when neither of the two paid any attention to the woman who had literally appeared out of nowhere.

"Hakon!" Gormlaith cheered, grinning savagely. "A glorious day, is it not!"

"Do you think nothing beyond the blooding of your blade?" Hakon snapped, clearly not enjoying the constant battle as much as she was.

"What else is there?" she laughed.

"The battle below goes ill. If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all is lost."

"You worry too much brother. Victory will be ours," she said, apparently unconcerned.

Valkari heard crunching footsteps in the snow, and she turned to see an old man approaching in robes identical to that of the Greybeards. Gormlaith and Hakon turned too.

"Why does Alduin hang back? We've staked everything on this plan of yours old man," Hakon pressed.

"He will come," said Felldir (she recognised him from the carvings.) "He cannot ignore our defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?"

"We've bloodied him well. Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day," Gormlaith pointed out proudly, flashing the bloody blade.

"But none have yet stood against Alduin himself," Hakon retorted. "Galthor, Sorri, Birkir…"

" _They_ did not have Dragonrend. Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head."

Felldir shook his head grimly. "You do not understand. Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength. Which is why I have brought the Elder Scroll."

From within his robes, he drew out the gilded Scroll, the same one Valkari had retrieved from Blackreach. Hakon balked at the sight of it, and even Gormlaith seemed wary of it.

"Felldir! We agreed not to use it!" he shouted.

"I never agreed. And if you are right, I will not need it."

"We will deal with Alduin ourselves, here and now," Hakon insisted as Gormlaith's gaze turned to the skies. She held her sword ready.

"We shall see soon enough," she snarled delightfully. "Alduin approaches!"

And it was true. A huge black shadow swooped through the clouds. With a great flap of his wings, he hovered and came to land atop the Word Wall, kicking up snow as he did. His mean, red eyes swept the battlefield, observing the bodies of his fallen kin, before settling on the Ancient Nords.

He snarled at them in the dragon tongue, words that rumbled with pure power that shook the very air, before he reared up, Shouting. The sky shook and great balls of fire came crashing down to earth, just like they had in Helgen.

"Let those watching from Sovengarde envy us this day!" cried Gormlaith as she and her fellows stood forward, heads raised as Alduin made to take to the skies once more.

"JOOR ZAH FRUL!" They Shouted, and Valkari felt the words imprinting themselves into her very being as the energy wrapped itself around Alduin, sending him crashing to the ground.

He roared in agony. "Nivahriin joorre! What have you done?! What twisted Words have you created? Tahrodiis Paarthurnax! My teeth to his neck! But first…" He leered down at the three nords, still entrapped by Dragonrend. "Dir ko maar. You will die in terror, knowing your final fate: to feed my power when I come for you in Sovengarde!"

"If I die today, it will not be in terror!" yelled Gormlaith, charging forwards and cleaving a great, ugly wound into Alduin's snout. "You feel fear for the first time, wyrm! I see it in your eyes, Skyrim will be free!"

Alduin screamed in pain, swinging his neck through Gormlaith's path. She ducked and slashed at his neck, removing several scales as she did so. Hakon charged into the fight, hacking at Alduin's flank whilst Felldir barely got out of the path of a fireball in time.

Gormlaith slashed again, this time striking at one of his eyes that spurted blood, effectively ruining it.

Finally having enough of her, Alduin reached down and snatched her up in his jaws. His sword-like teeth pierced her armour and Gormlaith let out a scream of agony as Alduin shook her like a ragdoll before throwing her against a boulder not far from where Valkari stood. She wasn't moving.

"No! Damn you!" screamed Hakon, swinging his axe at Alduin's great girth to no effect. "It's no use! Use the Scroll Felldir! Now!"

Felldir fumbled to open the Scroll, and held it aloft before him as Hakon scrambled out of range.

"Hold Alduin on the wing! Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard!" The wind began to rush and howl, and the sky began to shake. "Begone, World Eater! By words with bones older than your own, we break your perch on this age and send you out! You are banished! Alduin, we Shout you out from all our endings unto the Last!"

Alduin's gaze fell onto Felldir, his good eye wide with shock as rivers of emerald light began to snake across his body, a hazy mist beginning to surround him as the wind grew stronger.

"Faal Kel…? Nikriinne!" He shrieked as he was sucked into the nothingness. The air itself seemed to explode as time shattered, just as Paarthurnax had said it had.

Valkari felt a sudden pull in her navel and she was falling in reverse, until her knees hit the frozen ground, her fingers ungluing themselves from the Scrolls casing and her breath rose up in clouds of mist as her chest heaved. She had done it. She had learnt Dragonrend from the Ancient Nords themselves.

"Val! Move!" Lydia screamed.

Valkari barely rolled out of the way as the Alduin of the present spat a great ball of fire in her direction. She hooked the Elder Scroll over her shoulder, and grabbed her bow ready as she turned to face him.

"Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin. Die now and await your fate in Sovengarde!" He roared, and fire rained from the sky. Just as it had in the past. He took off into the sky, leaving her to dodge the fire.

"Lost funt! You are too late Alduin! Dovahkiin, use Dragonrend, if you know it!" Paarthurnax cried as he launched himself into the sky after Alduin, seizing his tail in his jaws and dragging him lower. Alduin turned and threw himself at his brother, teeth bared.

"I have waited too long for this," he sneered.

Lydia sprinted towards Valkari.

"Did you learn the Shout?" she cried, axe at the ready.

"Yes. But I don't want to hit Paarthurnax," Valkari shouted back, looking for an opening. They were a tangle of teeth and claws, but it was clear that Alduin was winning.

With a powerful kick of his rear legs, he sent Paarthurnax crashing to the ground below, a white flurry flying up around him.

"Paarthurnax!" Valkari screamed, before turning her eyes to Alduin who was momentarily pausing to grin in victory at his fallen brother. "JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

The Shout left her lips, and the blue energy entrapped Alduin as it had done many millennia ago, but the Words tore at her very insides, forcing her to double over in agony. Alduin was right, these were twisted Words. With a furious roar, he went crashing to the ground himself a short distance away.

"Go and help Paarthurnax!" she ordered. "He's not dying on us today!"

Though reluctant, Lydia nodded and rushed off towards the downed dragon.

Valkari turned her own attention to Alduin, who was currently attempting to detangle himself from his wings.

"You may have picked up the weapons of your ancestors, Dovahkiin, but you are not their equal!" he roared, turning his great head in her direction. It was the first time she had seen him so close, and she thought smugly that Gormlaith ought to be proud. His right eye was ruined beyond repair, his snout was scarred and he was missing scales in his neck… Right where his jugular vein ought to be… An idea quickly formed in her head.

She drew her blade and charged. Alduin snapped his jaws and Valkari darted around, stabbing the sword right into his bald patch. A torrent of blood spurted out, thick and red and she grinned. But all she was met with was a rumbling, malevolent laugh. Valkari wrenched the blade free and backed away slowly as Alduin turned his ugly, spiked head towards her.

That ought to have killed him, without a doubt.

"Meyz mul, Dovahkiin. You have grown strong. I ought to have tried harder to kill you in that wretched little town." He held himself like a cat torn between pouncing and fleeing. "But I am Al-du-in! First born of Akatosh! Mulgaai zok lot! I cannot be slain here; not by you, or anyone! I will outlast you, mortal!"

With a beat of his wings, he rose into the air and soared away into the distance, vanishing over the horizon.

"Fuck!" Valkari yelled, swinging her bloodied sword. "Fucking shit bag of a giant's hairy nipple!"

So close. _So close_! He had been right there, and yet a wound that should have been fatal he had shrugged off, like nothing more than a paper cut.

"Val!" Lydia was waving to her from Paarthurnax's side. It didn't look good.

Valkari raced over to the downed dragon. He looked even worse close up. He was marred with burns, bites and claw marks, and no doubt he'd broken bones with the impact of that crash.

"Paarthurnax, are you okay?" she asked, placing a hand to the end of his snout.

He wheezed and coughed, breathing clearly difficult for him right now. "I… May yet recover Dovahkiin… Had you not sent your friend to my aid… I may have fared worse… I am grateful…"

"You're my friend Paarthurnax," she said firmly. "And I don't have many of them. I'm not going to let you die just yet, you hear me?"

He chuckled. "You have all the pride… and determination of a dovah… Lot kongrah… and you have the Voice of one as well… Alduin's allies will think twice… after this victory."

"Not really much of a victory," she mumbled. "He got away."

"Nii livrah hin moro… True, this is not… the final kongrah… Victory… But not even the heroes of old… could stand against Alduin… in open battle…" He coughed, and blood came up.

"Stop, you need to rest," she pressed firmly.

He just chuckled again. "It is funny… how time works is it not…? How the elders will teach and nuture the young… only for the young to care for and nurture the elder… You are too kind to an old dovah… Dovahkiin…"

"That's not my name. It's Valkari."

"Valkari... I believe that means… Chooser of the Slain, in your tongue... A fitting title for yourself… But still, you must learn where Alduin has gone… One of his allies could tell us… Motmahus… But it will not be so easy to… Convince one of them to betray-!" He grunted in pain, and more blood trickled out between his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and his body shuddered.

"Stop, please! Lydia, do we have any healing potions left?"

Lydia rummaged through her pack, pulling out a large glass vial filled with red liquid. She popped the cork and handed it over.

"This should help the wounds heal, you just need to drink it." Valkari had no idea if it would work on a dragon, but it was worth a shot. He opened his jaws and she reached in to pour the potion down his throat.

Paarthurnax let out a long, contented sigh. "Thank you Valkari… You are kind beyond measure. Your ancestors would be most proud."

Considering her family's long running profession she wasn't certain that was the case, though the potion seemed to have the desired effect, as he was no longer breathing as hard as he rested the tip of his snout in her lap and she patted him gently. He seemed to like the attention. Not that she blamed him. He'd been sitting up here alone for thousands of years after all. That was a long time to be alone.

"What do I do now?" Valkari asked quietly.

"Perhaps the hofkahsejun – the palace in Whiterun… Dragonsreach. It was originally built to house a captive dovah."

She blinked in surprise. "It was?"

"Yes. Though this was ages ago, you understand. There were more of us then. Before the bruhniikke – the Akaviri – came and killed all of my zeymah. I used to visit him from time to time. Nearly crazed by loneliness and captivity. Tiiraz sivaas. He did not even remember his own name. I do not know how he came to be caught, but the bronjun… the Jarl… was very proud of his pet. Paak! The hofkahsejum has been known as Dragonsreach ever since."

He fell into a melancholy silence as her thoughts tried to formulate some ideas, whilst the image of the dragon's skull over Balgruuf's throne ate away at her. Likely the result of that Jarl deciding to put the beast out of his misery, if he had been crazed… Valkari suddenly found it very hard to hate dragons at all, especially when she had become so close to the one before her.

A few moments later, Paarthurnax remarked: "A fine place to capture one of Alduin's allies, yes?"

"I doubt the Jarl would agree," she chuckled quietly.

"Hmm, yes. But you're Su'um is strong," said Paarthurnax, as he slowly lifted his head. "I do not doubt that you can convince him of the need."

"I just-" Valkari paused, taking a very shaky breath, and Lydia had the good sense to give the two some peace. "I don't know how much more I can take. Everyone keeps saying that I'm this… hero, and that everyone is looking to me to save them. But I couldn't kill Alduin then, could I? Not even with Dragonrend… It just feels…" She felt something warm run down her cheek. "It feels that for every step I take forward, something knocks me back six more. What if I can't win, Paarthurnax? What if I really can't defeat Alduin?"

The old dragon nudged his snout against her cheek, before drawing his body and wings around her in a sort of embrace.

"You must have more faith in yourself, Valkari," he rumbled. "Ful ahzid. Do not doubt yourself, or your power. You have made it this far, further than even the Ancient Nords. Lost sahvot. You will prevail, of this I am certain."


	15. Season Unending

Paarthurnax's wounds had been worse than Valkari had believed, so whilst the Greybeards saw to him, Valkari and Lydia went to meet with Balgruuf and secure his help in capturing a dragon. He was taking it about as well as either of them expected him to.

"Aha, I think I must have misheard you," he chuckled uneasily. "I must have misheard you. I thought you just asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace."

"I told you that you wouldn't want to hear it," she sighed. "Look, you know that I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

But Balgruuf shook his head fiercely. "What you're asking is insane. Impossible! You want me to let a dragon into the heart of my city, with the threat of war on my doorstep?! We have already had to repel one assault from the Stormcloaks!"

"It's the only way to stop the dragons!"

"There _must_ be another way. It's took risky!"

"If there _was_ another way, would I be here asking? I know I'm asking a lot of you, but the dragon threat is only the beginning. It's worse than you realise. Alduin has returned!"

"Alduin?! The World Eater himself? But…" He looked around hopelessly, though Irileth seemed completely lost. "How can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?"

"Perhaps it does. I fought Alduin on the Throat of the World, and a fatal wound was nothing to him. But even if it really is the end, I'd rather go down fighting like the Ancients themselves did! I watched through the visions of the Elder Scrolls as Gormlaith Golden-Hilt herself fought against Alduin before time began. I watched as she faced death without fear, because her cause was worthy. She showed her courage, and didn't falter even in the face of death. Tell me Balgruuf," she challenged. "Are you going to hide like a milk drinker? Or are you going to stand up and fight, no matter how hopeless our battle seems?"

A strange look came over Balgruuf's face, as though he was experiencing many different emotions at once, before he finally settled on a proud smile.

"Spoken like a true nord," he said, glowing with pride. "Forgive me Dragonborn. Now, what's this nonsense about trapping a dragon in my palace?"

[]

Valkari found herself on the road bound for Windhelm, alone this time. Balgruuf had agreed to help, but only if the Imperials and Stormcloaks agreed to a temporary ceasefire until Alduin was dead. And that wasn't going to be easy, considering how proud and stubborn they all were.

Valkari sent a raven to High Hrothgar in the hopes that Arngeir would agree to host the council, as a neutral party, and Arngeir had written back, reluctantly agreeing to do so. It seemed with the battle being brought so close to High Hrothgar, even he was forced to face the reality that this threat was as much a danger to the Greybeards as it was to the rest of the world.

However, just getting into Windhelm was tricky, considering the war going on, but it seemed that she was to keep running into familiar faces.

"I'm sorry messere, but unless you are here on official-"

"What are you lollygaggers going? You'd stop a friend of Ulfric Stormcloak from entering the city?"

Valkari felt some measure of relief to see a host of Stormcloaks marching over. All of them were horribly battered and bloody, and none of them seemed particularly happy. But it was the bear of a man who had spoken – Ulfric's general, Galmar Stonefist.

"A friend of the Jarl's?!" The guards leapt aside. "Apologies messere, Go on in."

Galmar snorted and stomped up the steps. She let the Stormcloaks pass by. They all seemed rather… defeated. If what she’d heard about the war was true, it seemed that the Stormcloaks were losing ground to the Imperials and fast. They lost their chance to take Whiterun without even making it through the gates. It was supposedly the most embarrassing military defeat in recent memory.

She made her way through the city, and it seemed that the mood was indeed rather dour. People were beginning to lose their faith in Ulfric, and as she made her way through the city she could have sworn she heard muttering about the Jagged Crown being in Imperial hands.

"Valkari, my friend," Ulfric greeted when she arrived at the foot of his throne. "It has been some time since I last saw you. But I have heard of your exploits across Skyrim. I hope you have changed your mind, regarding this Imperial occupation."

She shook her head. "Not today, I'm afraid. But I do need to ask a favour."

"I see. I'm listening." He shifted to lean forward, waiting for her to speak.

"I need you and General Tullius to agree to a temporary truce so I can stop this Dragon Menace, once and for all," she explained. "The Greybeards have agreed to convene the talks in High Hrothgar, as a neutral party."

But Ulfric shook his head. "I have the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course. And the dragon attacks are a growing plague. But the political situation is still delicate. Not all of the Jarls are fully committed to supporting me as High King. I can't afford to appear weak. I can't agree to this unless Tullius himself will be there."

"Politics be damned!" Valkari shouted, causing everyone in the room to jump with fright, and even Ulfric seemed taken aback. "The danger is worse than you realise! Alduin has returned, and if the dragons aren't stopped then your war is for nothing!"

Silence filled the hall, with every eye on her as the words sunk in.

"Alduin?" breathed Ulfric. "The World Eater of Song and Legend? If that's true-"

"It is. I fought him, and I damn well near beat him," Valkari growled. "He was forced to flee from the Throat of the World itself, I was that close to killing the bastard."

"Well now, this changes the situation, doesn't it? Even Tullius may be forced to talk sense in the face of such a threat."

"So you'll come to the peace council?"

Ulfric nodded. "Yes. I'll give Tullius one last chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs. I will see you soon, my friend. And I wish you the best of luck."

[]

The next stop was Solitude, on the opposite end of Skyrim. Tullius had better agree to the council, otherwise Valkari might just end the war herself if he said no. She was tired, she was stressed and she was ready to just curl up and cry.

The main problem here was that with Ulfric, she had something to work with; he considered her a friend and she had stopped a serial killer terrorising his people. With Tullius she had nothing. If she was lucky however, even if the threat of Alduin couldn't convince him, surely knowing Ulfric would be there would be enough to change his mind. Still, she’d never understand politicians.

Again, getting in proved tricky but this time Valkari had thought ahead and stopped in Whiterun to secure official documents from Balgruuf to prove she had been spent to speak with Tullius.

Castle Dour was very different from the Blue Palace, in that is was much more depressing. As a Legionnaire led her to the war room, Valkari could hear voices.

“How goes our progress in the Rift, Legate?”

“Things are proceeding well sir. With the steward in our pocket, we’ve essentially cut off supplies for Stormcloaks going in and out of the hold. Soon we’ll be able to take Fort Greenwall and Riften itself.”

Valkari felt a little sick. With the dragon attacks, Riften’s people were vulnerable enough. They didn’t need a battle raging in their streets, and Jarl Leila wouldn’t just surrender to the Imperials without a fight. She wasn’t exactly the sharpest sword on the wrack, considering that Maven was able to manipulate her for years.

Still, she needed Tullius’ cooperation, so she knocked on the door and stepped into what appeared to be the war room. Tullius and Legate Rikke looked up from the war map - it was largely covered in red flags. The Imperials were doing well it seemed.

"What are you doing here, citizen?" Tullius demanded suspiciously.

"Sir, I believe this is the woman we were discussing earlier," interjected Rikke, who seemed far more surprised to see her than Tullius did. "The Dragonborn."

"Dragonborn, eh? Ah yes, I recognise you now. You were at Helgen. I suspect we might have use for someone resourceful like you. Not many survived Helgen."

"I'm not here to take sides, General. I'm here because of the dragons."

"I see." He crossed his arms expectantly.

"The Greybeards are convening a peace council at High Hrothgar as a neutral party. I need you and Ulfric Stormcloak to attend and agree to the terms of a temporary ceasefire until I can deal with the dragons. Jarl Balgruuf has agreed to help me, but only if Whiterun isn't threatened by the war."

"There's nothing to discuss so long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful Emperor," Tullius said firmly.

"So you'd let this whole country be ravaged by dragons then? Is that it?" she spat, her patience running thinner than ever. "Nice to see the Empire's concern with the safety of the people. How many towns and villages have been burnt to the ground? How many are dead? How many more are going to die before you realise just how big a threat they are?"

Tullius shifted uncomfortably. "They are getting to be a problem, but I wasn't sent to Skyrim to fight dragons."

“I’m not asking you to,” she snapped. “I’m asking you to stop fighting each other long enough so I can do _my_ job. You can go right back to killing each other afterwards when Alduin is dead!”

Rikke flinched, looking alarmed.

"Alduin?! Did you just say Alduin?" she exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

"Oh yes," she said in a falsely cheery voice. "He's back, and he's the reason the dragons are back, and unless I stop him we are all completely fucked. So I recommend that you agree to attend the peace talks, and stop being petulant fucking children!"

"Can someone please explain to me who this Alduin is?" Tullius barked, determined not to be shouted down at.

“They call him the World Eater, sir,” Rikke explained gravely. “His return means it’s the end times. If he’s not stopped, he’ll devour everything until there’s nothing left.”

“He feasts on the souls of the dead as well,” Valkari hissed. “Everyone who’s died in this damn war has just been fueling his power, and if I don’t stop him, then there won’t be an Empire to hold together!”

“And you can stop him because you’re Dragonborn?”

“I can. I fought him on top of the Throat of the World and he fled. I need to capture a dragon in Dragonsreach, but Jarl Balgruuf will only do that if the Imperials and the Stormcloaks agree to a temporary truce. A cease fire until Alduin is dealt with.”

Tullius turned away, scratching his head and sighing deeply. Finally, after a few moments of contemplation, he nodded his head.

“Okay, fine. Fine. I see your point.”

"So you'll go?"

"Yes, yes Dragonborn. I'll come to this Greybeard Council. For all the good it will do."

[]

When Valkari arrived in Ivarstead, she was met by a host of Imperial soldiers, including Hadvar. They hugged tightly, and wandered down to the river away from the bustle of the soldiers setting up camp. Tullius and Rikke would be heading up the mountain accompanied by Jarl Elisif, Jarl Baalgruff and, to Valkari’s disgust, Elenwen. Meanwhile Ulfric was bringing only Galmar Stone-Fist, his most trusted general. They and their Stormcloaks were currently making their camp on the other side of the village, whilst the locals were still aghast with how busy their tiny village was all of a sudden.

"So how have you been?" asked Hadvar, skipping a stone across the water.

"Lousy," Valkari confessed. "Before, I just looked out for myself and the few people I had. Now it feels like I'm being asked to jump through hoops all the damn time…"

"With dragons on the other side of those hoops, no doubt. I overheard some of the others talking earlier, by the way. Is it true you shouted right in the General's face?"

"Yeah… I was..." she trailed off before sighing. "It'd be better if they could just shake hands now and just agree to stop killing each other whilst I stop Alduin. But _nooo_ , politics aren't that simple. I'll tell you why politics aren't simple: because some fucking arseholes are too proud to just stand down and do the right thing."

Hadvar shook his head. "If we all agreed on what the right thing is, then we wouldn't need politics. We wouldn't be at war. The problem is that not everyone agrees what's best, so that's why we fight."

"Okay, but picture this scenario: there's a fucking World Eating dragon on the way to end the world. Which is better: keep fighting, or put it to one side until said World Eating dragon is dead? I think we can all agree what the right thing is there."

“I know. I entertained the same thought myself, even suggested it. Most thought it was preposterous, that the Stormcloaks would never back down long enough to think of anything but their cause…” He shook his head. “Maybe we’re not much better.”

“No shit.”

Hadvar chuckled, stretching out to lie on the grass, and Valkari laid down beside him.

"I want you to know that it's been an honour to know you Val. And when this is over, we're having a drink and you can tell me the whole story." He gave her a far too understanding smile. "It might help with some of the worst of it."

She frowned. "Is that how you cope with the war? Talking about it?"

He nodded. "Killing Stormcloaks, taking down forts, gathering intel… It's not as easy as they make it sound. Just last week, we were in the field when some of Ulfric’s boys ambushed us. Caught one around the head with a hammer and clobbered his brains out. When I got a better look…" He sighed heavily. "Just a boy."

Valkari thought of Etienne, only sixteen years old and tortured by the Thalmor for reasons he barely understood. She thought of herself, fifteen and a man she had trusted tried to murder her twice over, and was the reason she had nearly drowned. Then Runa, who lost her parents to vampires, and Valkari thought of how she still crawled into her bed because of the nightmares. The children trapped in Honourhall, with no words of comfort or warm arms to shield them from harm as the threat of death loomed over them. All of the young men and women who joined a war because they were promised glory, and were now all dead or worse because they hadn't known better.

"They were all too young…" Valkari murmured. "Too young for all of this shit…"

"They always are."

[]

Delphine, Esbern, Soran, and Niraen had arrived for the council, having left the care of Sky Haven Temple to the others. So far it sounded like things were going well, and that Delphine had even tracked down a couple of old Blades agents and got them to rejoin the Order. Valkari got the sense that there was something they weren't telling her, but there was no time to ask because Arngeir and the other Greybeards arrived to speak with her. So they headed for the council room with Ulfric and Tullius' parties respectively.

"So you've done it," said Arngeir, as though resigned to it. "The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace. I should not have agreed to host this council. The Greybeards have no business involving ourselves in such matters."

"Neither do thieves," Valkari pointed out. "But sometimes we have to do whatever it takes, even if it means breaking all of our rules along the way."

"You speak with more wisdom than you know," he said. "But I fear you are not arranging for peace. Merely a respite, in which they will gather strength for the next bloodletting. They are not tired of war. Far from it."

"They aren't because they're not the ones doing the fighting. It's easier to point fingers when you're not the one in their place."

She shot him a withering look, and he seemed to catch on to the implication.

"Perhaps you are right Dragonborn." He paused. "Valkari. Forgive me, I am not accustomed to addressing you by your given name. But do you know the Ancient Nord word for war?"

"Season Unending," she replied, glancing through to the council room where, to her disgust, she could see Elenwen seating herself. She had swapped her elegant, dress robes for official Thalmor attire and it made Valkari loath her even more.

Arngeir nodded. "And so it has proved. But regrets are pointless. Here we are. Take your seat at the council table and let us see what wisdom we might find amongst these warriors of Skyrim."

She followed him into the council room, and to her relief, she spotted Lydia and Niraen seated at the far end with one seat between them. Valkari hurried over and sat down whilst the rest all made their way to their seats, the hushed whispering dying down.

"Now that everyone is here, we may begin," announced Arngeir as he took a seat at the head of the table. Everyone else began to sit down. "I hope we have all come here in the spirit of-"

"No!" Ulfric had stepped away from his chair, his eyes fixed in a glare on Elenwen. "You insult us by bringing _her_ to this negotiation? Your chief Talos-hunter?"

"That didn't take long," muttered Rikke.

Valkari would be more frustrated if she didn't agree.

Elenwen glared back. "I have every right to be at this negotiation. I need to make sure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat," she said sharply.

"She is part of the Imperial delegation. You can't dictate who I bring to this council."

"Even if they do torture children and purge their supposed allies," Valkari murmured under her breath.

"Did you say something Dragonborn?" Tullius asked loudly.

"Nothing you want to hear," she replied icily.

"Please," called Arngeir. "If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere! Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on this matter?"

He gave her a pleading look that told her to hold her tongue as best she could, but she wasn't in the mood.

Ulfric turned to Valkari, arms folded. "By Ysmir's beard, the nerve of these Imperial bastards, eh? To think that we would sit down with that… Thalmor bitch. I say she walks, or we walk."

"Oh get over yourself Ulfric," Valkari sighed. "Just sit down and we can get this over with."

"You suggest-!"

"I'm not saying she's not a bitch, she absolutely is," she interrupted. "But we're on a tight enough schedule as it is, what with the end of the world and all, let's not push it."

An icy silence settled over the room, as everyone stared between Valkari and Ulfric, the latter staring at her in disbelief whilst she glared back. Finally he submitted and sat.

"Very well. But she is to observe, nothing more. We are not negotiating with her, is that clear?"

 _"_ Ulfric, why so hostile? After all, it's not the Thalmor that's burning your farms and killing your sons. We would not dream of interfering with your civil war," Elenwen replied with a faux pleasantness.

“I find that very hard to believe, Emissary,” Niraen said serenely, hands folded on the table and smiling pleasantly at the younger mer. “I spent enough time in your dungeon to hear all sorts of questions being asked to your prisoners. At least, when you weren’t preoccupied with torturing me anyway.”

Nothing gave Valkari more pleasure than the pure fury in Elenwen's eyes as her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lady Rilis," she said shortly.

"Now that that's settled, may we proceed?" asked Arngeir, glancing up and down the table.

"I have something to say first," said Ulfric, and Valkari rolled her eyes. He always did.

“Here we go,” muttered Rikke.

"The only reason I agreed to attend this council was to deal with the dragon menace. There’s nothing else to talk about, unless the Empire is finally ready to renounce its unjust claim to rule over the free people of Skyrim."

“I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist,” Rikke sighed, and Valkari threw her a look of agreement. Honestly, she was really getting tired of political blustering like this.

"We are here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the dragons. Nothing more. We consider even talking to the Empire to be a generous gesture."

"Are you done?" Valkari growled. "The more time we waste, the worse off we all are."

"Agreed,” snorted Tullius, who was eying Ulfric with incredible disdain.

"Are we ready to proceed?" asked Arngeir. "General Tullius. Jarl Ulfric. This council is unprecedented. We are gathered here at the Dragonborn's request. I ask that you all respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and do your best to begin the process of achieving a lasting peace in Skyrim. Who would like to open the negotiations?"

"Let's get down to it then," said Ulfric. "We want Markarth. That's our price for agreeing to a truce."

Elisif spoke up for the first time since arriving. "So that's why you're here Ulfric? You dare insult the Greybeards by using this council to advance your own position?"

"Jarl Elisif, I'll handle this."

"General, this is outrageous! You can't be taking this demand seriously!"

"Of course he isn't," she said snidely. "He wasn't taking the dragons seriously."

"Val," Lydia hissed. "This isn't helping."

"What was it you said, Tullis? When I reminded you of all the people who had been killed? That you weren't sent to Skyrim to fight dragons?"

"How dare you-!" Elisif began, rising to her feet.

"Enough, Jarl Elisif!" Tullius said sharply.

Ulfric snorted. “I agree with the Dragonborn-!”

"Shut the fuck up, all of you!" Valkari shouted, getting to her own feet and the whole room fell silent. "You all sit here, _whining_ and _complaining_ because of how unfair it is you've been asked to sit at a fucking table together! And before you start Tullius, that bitch had no right to be here."

Tullius shut his mouth, seeming to understand that now wasn’t the time to argue with her.

"And Ulfric don’t you start agreeing with me just because you think kissing my arse will get you anywhere!”

He looked affronted by the suggestion, and had Valkari not been nearly so infuriated and at a breaking point, she might have noticed Niraen smiling.

“But this isn't about what's fair. It's not about your _inane_ civil war! It isn't just about Skyrim, or the Empire! This isn't about how you all want to fucking kill each other over a fucking chair! This is about doing what's right, what needs to be done,

"This is about the people who don't have the walls to protect them. The people who can't fight back against it. I saw first-hand what it's like out there, when _my_ city was attacked. When _my_ people died, because I failed to take action sooner. Is that what it's going to have to take? Jarl Elisif, will you see Solitude burned to the ground before you realise how pointless your whining is? Before you realise that 'it's not fair' was your excuse when innocent, unarmed people die in the streets?"

Elisif's lips were in a thin line and her knuckles had turned white in her lap.

"Jarl Ulfric, you saw what happened to Riften. Are you prepared for Windhelm to befall the same fate if you're not willing to negotiate reasonably? Will your 'I tried' be enough to comfort the children left without parents? The widowers, the homeless, and the dying? Will it be enough?” She put on a mocking voice in imitation of Ulfric. “‘Oh I kept saying ‘I agree with the Dragonborn’ but didn’t do fuck all about the dragons anyway because I’m a monumental arse kisser!’"

He said nothing, but bowed his head and his jaw was locked.

Elenwen tilted her head back slightly, fixing Valkari with a very condescending look, golden eyes gleaming maliciously.

"A very pretty speech, but what does it have to do with-"

"Elenwen I am showing an incredible amount of tolerance by _not_ Shouting you off this mountain. Shut up or that tolerance won't last," Valkari snarled, and for once the mer fell silent. "I don't care who wins this war. I didn't want to be involved at all. But if you all want to whine and cry whilst your country burns around you, then by Dibella's saggy tits, I will lock you in a room together until you stop acting like fucking children! Now, Ulfric, you want Markarth?"

He nodded.

"Then the Imperials can have Winterhold in exchange, considering it’s the only hold you didn’t have already. It borders Eastmarch, and you can take advantage of the College's enchanters whilst blocking the Stormcloaks that same access – and if I hear anything that resembles 'not fair' come past anyone’s lips, I will personally Shout them and their delegation off of this mountain, and then there won't be a war to settle."

The tension in the room was unbelievable, but no one dared to say a word against her.

"Now. Any other requests, or are we done here?" she hissed.

Tullius raised a hand and Valkari nodded.

"We want compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten," he said in a voice that braver men than he wouldn't have used after quite such a tongue lashing.

"You slaughtered the very people you claim to be fighting for," snarled Rikke, arms folded as she glared at Ulfric.

"Fine." Valkari turned to Ulfric. "You'll pay the full compensation for Karthwasten, and no less."

Arngeir, who seemed to be trying to hold back a migraine the entire time, called out: "It seems we have come to an agreement. Jarl Ulfric, General Tullius, these are the terms currently on the table. Markarth will be handed over to Stormcloak forces. Jarl Igmund will step down and Thongvor Silver-Blood will become Jarl of Markarth. The Stormcloaks will withdraw from Winterhold, and control of the hold will be given to the Imperials. Jarl Korir will step down, and Kraldar will become Jarl of Winterhold. Ulfric Stormcloak will also pay full compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten. You both agree to this?"

The two men agreed to the terms, each with their own terse words, and with a final withering glance, Tullius, Elisif, Rikke, and Elenwen all departed, whilst Balgruuf remained seated.

Ulfric approached Valkari whilst his own delegation began to depart.

"You are indeed a fearsome woman. I am glad I am not your enemy," he remarked in a low voice that sounded too suggestive for her liking.

"What part of ‘arse kisser’ does not convey the depths for which I do not care for your attempts to butter me up?" Valkari replied coolly. "I’m not a trophy to be won and I’m not taking anyone’s side in the war."

"Of course, I understand. But even so, know that I will always consider you a dear friend. When this war is over, and I am High King, I will ensure the bards write songs about you."

"I was never a big fan of music. Now, if you'll please get the fuck out of my face."

She made my way past him to where the others were gathering at the other end of the table. Once the Imperials and Stormcloaks had cleared out, Valkari seated herself between Esbern and Niraen as Balgruuf moved closer and the Greybeards, Delphine, Lydia, and Soran sat around as well.

"I must say Valkari," said Arngeir. "I knew your Voice was powerful, but to have such complete control over such a volatile group of people through words alone is astonishing. Though it was not how I would have preferred the negotiation to have run its course, the matter is settled regardless. Foul language aside. Now, to the matter at hand. Jarl Balgruuf, I assume you are familiar with the Dragonborn's plan?"

"Yes. I am ready to do my part. Just say the word, and my men will help you spring this trap."

"But the difficulty remains… how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach at all?"

It was a sticking detail Valkari had been thinking over for some time now, until Esbern beat her to it.

"I believe I can be of help here," he said. "When Valkari sent word of her plan to me, I anticipated this problem. While you were arranging this meeting, I was busy in Sky Haven Temple's library. An unguessed trove of lost lore… but the important thing is that the Blades recorded the names of the dragons they slew. Cross-referencing this with Delphine's map of ancient dragon burial sites, I believe I've identified one of the dragons that Alduin has raised up."

"Not one we've already killed, I hope," interjected Lydia.

"Ah, yes. Not to worry my dear, I'm quite certain this particular dragon has yet to be unfortunate enough to cross paths with you."

"But why does the dragon's name help?" asked Balgruuf.

"Dragon's names are made up of three Words of Power," Valkari explained. "When called through the Voice, the dragon will hear you wherever you might be."

Einarth nodded, a pleased smile on his face. She had remembered her lessons well.

"But why would he come when called?" asked Niraen. Her knowledge regarding the Voice was painfully limited, despite her years of experience.

"He is not compelled to. But if the one who fought and defeated Alduin in open combat were to call..."

"He would find it very difficult to resist investigating," Esbern said, nodding.

"So what is this dragon's name?" Valkari asked.

"Ah, indeed." Esbern reached into his pack and pulled out a scroll. "I'm not master of the Voice like these worthy gentlemen, but it is written here on this scroll."

He passed it over, and she peered at the name. "Odahviing…"

"Winged Snow Hunter," murmured Esbern.

"Right."

She handed the scroll back and got to her feet. "If we're done here then. I'll meet you in Whiterun, Balgruuf."

The Jarl nodded and left the room, and the four Greybeards bowed to Valkari before shuffling away. But she was barely out of the front doors when Delphine caught up to her with Esbern and Soran just behind, and they both looked rather concerned. Niraen and Lydia watched from the bottom of the steps, exchanging a wary glance.

"There's one more thing we need to talk about," Delphine said sharply. "We know about Paarthurnax."

Valkari felt her heart sink and her blood seemed to turn cold, though it had nothing to do with the snow. "What about him?"

"That he's a dragon. A dragon that the Greybeards have been protecting for all of these years."

And her, by extension. Delphine didn't trust her.

"So what?"

"So what? He's a dragon, Valkari. He needs to die. He _deserves_ to die. And it falls to you to kill him."

Valkari stared at her for a long moment, before turning to walk away. "Okay, very funny-!"

"This isn't a joke!" snapped Delphine, grabbing her arm and slamming her against the wall. Esbern and Soran both groaned and Lydia yelled.

"You're right, because it's not very funny," Valkari snarled, snatching her arm away and shoving her back. "He helped me! Helped all of us! Or are you conveniently forgetting that he taught the Ancient Nords to use the Voice?"

"We needed his help. Now we don't, and it's long past the time for him to pay for his crimes. He was Alduin's right hand! He committed atrocities so infamous, that they're still remembered thousands of years later!"

"Oh so you're going to punish him for something you weren't even around to have seen at the time? You think you have the _right_ to act as judge and jury here?!"

Valkari thought of Paarthurnax who had risked his own life to hold off Alduin, to give her time to muster Dragonrend. Paarthurnax who _would_ have died, had she not sent Lydia to help him. The same old dragon who had listened to her woes and fears, and had offered his words of wisdom and comfort, whilst embracing her as his very own and confessed the full horror of all of his crimes. And Delphine wanted her to kill him.

"Here's the big picture-"

"Don't tell me what the big picture is when you only have half of the pieces!" Valkari barked. "I know what he's done, because he told me everything himself! I know everything, and more! And you know what, I still say you're wrong."

Delphine drew her sword, but Valkari drew her’s as well.

"Stand aside Dragonborn. If you won't deliver justice, I will," she said softly.

The Greybeards had emerged from the doors to see the scene unfolding.

"What happened to serving the Dragonborn?" Valkari hissed. "Did you speak to Reman Cyrodiil this way? The Septims?"

"Now you compare yourself to Emperors?"

"I compare myself to my fellow Dragonborn. Those of the Dragon's Blood your predecessors followed without question. Tell me Delphine, are you so arrogant you think you could control me?"

"Delphine, please," Esbern implored. "This isn't-"

"Silence!" Delphine cried. "Now, stand aside Dragonborn. You've protected that dragon long enough, and I don't care how loud you shout this time, because it won't-!"

"ENOUGH!"

The very heavens shook with the power of Valkari’s voice, the ground trembling beneath their feet, the mountain quaking and it seemed Delphine had realised her mistake too late as Valkari’s eyes flashed an iridescent shade of gold.

“Don’t try to tell me what I do and don’t understand,” she snarled, her voice booming with power. Even the Greybeards seemed wary. “I am not a tool to be used, I am not your puppet. You claim to serve the Dragonborn, but all you really do is use them. And I won’t be used, not by you or by anyone!”

“Val, calm down,” Lydia urged as snow began to shake free from the upper peaks. “You can stop.”

But Valkari found that she didn’t _want_ to stop. The anger coursing through her was fierce and seemed to have no end. Her muscles coiled tightly, and something inside of her _wanted_ to rip Delphine apart.

“Give me one damn good fucking reason-!”

“Valkari,” a voice rumbled from above. “Listen to your companion. Enough.”

Everyone leapt back as Paarthurnax appeared, landing at the bottom of the monastery steps. The Greybeards balked, turning worriedly to the Blades, no doubt terrified they would strike Paarthurnax down if given the chance. But it seemed even Delphine hadn’t expected him to leave his peak.

But Valkari didn’t face him. She kept her golden eyes fixed on Delphine, the tip of her blade still pointed at her throat, teeth bared in a snarl. Her inner dragon wanted to kill her, to dominate her, to prove she was weak.

“Valkari. Enough,” Paarthurnax said soothingly. “ _Siiv kosil drem_. You cannot allow your instincts to rule you, lest you lose yourself to them.” Gently he drew his wings around her, guiding her away from Delphine who was incredibly pale and now training her blade on Paarthurnax.

“I want her _dead_ ,” Valkari hissed, eyes burning with tears. “I want… I want to-”

Paarthurnax hushed her gently. “Breathe, Valkari. You must control it. To give in to your temptations is to walk the same path as Alduin. Breathe.”

It took a long time for her to calm, Delphine still pointing her blade at Paarthurnax but not acting just yet, Soran and Esbern trying to gently tug her away in an attempt to diffuse her own emotions. Balgruuf and the rest of the Imperial delegation, having felt the mountain shake and heard the thunderous shouting, had returned further up the mountain to investigate, and Lydia was currently filling them in on what they had missed.

Elenwen was unreadable, eyes fixed on the ancient dragon whilst Elisif couldn’t help but stare at Paarthurnax as he calmed the distraught Valkari, apparently in awe of the old, weathered dragon. 

It wasn’t surprising. It was a side of dragons that few of them had ever seen before after all.

Finally, Valkari emerged from within the dragon’s wings, eyes red from crying, but more composed than before.

“Are you well, Valkari?” Arngeir asked gently.

She nodded, turning to the others.

“Soran, I want you and the others to return to Sky Haven Temple, immediately. For now, you can assume the role of acting-grandmaster until we find someone more permanent.” Soran nodded smartly, looking more serious than she’d ever seen him. “Esbern, I want you to continue cataloguing everything in the library, and I mean everything, no matter how insignificant. And Delphine."

Valkari gave her a very cold glare.

"I've got no use for Blades who doesn't know how to follow orders. I see you anywhere near here or Skyhaven again, and you'll learn what it means to cross a dragon," she growled. "Now get the fuck out of my sight before I throw you off this mountain myself."

Delphine glared at her, trembling with a barely surpressed rage, before turning on heel and marching away down the mountain side. General Tullius stepped to one side to let her pass and she disappeared into the gathering darkness.

"Valkari." She looked around to see Esbern hobbling over. "I apologise on Delphine's behalf. I warned her, but she would not listen. I do not agree with the decision to cast her out of the order, but I will not question your judgement. It is time we remembered our duty to the Dragonborn. And perhaps you are right about Paarthurnax…" He didn't sound certain, even as he gestured to the old dragon, but Valkari nodded.

"After I beat Alduin, we talked. For hours. He told me everything about the Dragon Wars, the things he did, the crimes he committed under Alduin's rule. He… understands, better than anyone else ever has. I know it's dangerous to trust someone blindly, don't think I haven't learned that. But Paarthurnax has proved himself to me more than anyone else has ever done."

“I am proud to have earned your trust, Valkari,” Paarthurnax rumbled. “I hope I continue to prove worthy of it.”

Esbern had no words to reply to that with, but patted her shoulder regardless.


	16. Wings of a Dovah

This was it, today was the day it all came together. Months of hard work and effort, and it was leading up to this moment. If they could just catch this ‘Odahviing’ and get him to tell them where Alduin was…

There were so many variables, so many possibilities and they plagued Valkari. Odahviing might not even appear, or he could be too powerful to defeat, or even once caged he might hold his silence and refuse to betray Alduin at all. Valkari got the feeling if that was the case, Balgruuf might keep him locked up like the last dragon kept in Dragonsreach, just to let Farengar carry out his experiments and just to say he had a hand in capturing a dragon. That was the last thing Valkari wanted to happen, especially after all that Paarthurnax had told her about Dragonsreach’s history.

But it had to be done. One way or another, she was going to find out where Alduin had gone and end this once and for all. Then she’d slip under the radar back in Riften, until everyone forgot all about her and moved on.

They’d arrived in Whiterun late last night, and considering how exhausted (physically and emotionally) Valkari was, she put off enacting the plan until the morning and opted to sleep in Breezehome for the night. Lydia had been the one to suggest the idea, and seemed relieved Valkari didn’t put up a fight.

When they reached the front door, Valkari paused.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she said quietly. “What if he doesn’t come, or refuses to tell us where Alduin went?”

“It’ll work,” Lydia said reassuringly. “You managed to make Tullius and Ulfric agree to a truce by cursing at them. You’ll break that dragon in no time.”

Valkari allowed herself a short snort, before stepping outside and hurrying up the road towards Dragonsreach.

Balgruuf was waiting outside of the great wooden doors leading out onto the Great Porch, where the trap was set and waiting. He nodded before leading the way outside. Unlike the rest of Dragonsreach, this space was built almost entirely from stone, and for good reason considering it was designed to hold a captive dragon. Two large, heavy looking bars were held up on long, sturdy looking chains, one to go over the back of the head, the other to pin down the body. There was an upper walkway with a pull chain that opened and closed the trap, but the rest of the area was free space, with the porch itself overlooking the vast plains of Whiterun Hold. It was the perfect place to catch a dragon.

Guards stood ready, a few with bows and the rest with swords. Two stood out on the porch, and the rest of the archers waited up on the walkways. As with the Western Watchtower, Irileth was leading the guards, but Balgruuf and Hrongar were armed and ready as well.

Valkari stepped out onto the porch and looked up at the sky. It was a clear, cloudless day. They’d see Odahviing a good few miles off before he got close. Provided he came from across the plains, that was.

“ODAHVIING!” Valkari Shouted, the words echoing into the air with a burst of energy. For a few moments, it seemed that nothing had happened. One of the guards turned and shrugged.

“I don’t think-“

It was fast and by the time any of them had realised what had happened, the poor man was long dead.

With a great rush of wind, giant clawed feet grabbed the guard, lifting him high into the air as Odahviing dove past, climbing high into the sky before releasing the guard who plummeted to his death.

“FIRE!” Irileth roared, holding her own bow at the ready. But any arrows just bounced off of Odahviing’s steel-like scales as he soared past, before coming into hover, as they always did.

He was bigger than most dragons Valkari had met, but smaller than Alduin and Paarthurnax. His scales were bright red with a cream belly and blue flecks around his snout. His pale eyes focused solely on her as he opened his jaws.

“Dovahkiin! Here I am!”

“Here you are,” she murmured, before Shouting: “JOOR FAH ZUL!”

The Shout tore through her as it had before, driving her down to her knees from the agony, and she gasped, squeezing tears from her eyes. Lydia grabbed her in time to pull her out of the way as Odahviing came crashing down onto the porch, entrapped by the blue threads of energy.

“What is this?!” he roared in pain, before his eyes found her.

Valkari forced herself away from Lydia, running the length of the hall behind her and Odahviing followed, belching fire after her. She dove behind a stone pillar, as guards fired arrows at the great beast and charged in with their swords.

“Don’t kill him!” Valkari yelled over the din. Running out from her hiding place, she headed for the doors. Odahviing promptly lost interest in the guards and lumbered forwards, his great claws clattering against the stone. He opened his jaws, exposed the long, razor sharp fangs within. She heard someone yell ‘NOW’ and with a great clatter, the bars fell and trapped Odahviing, pinning him to the ground and kicking up dust and dirt.

When the dust cleared, Valkari could see Odahviing trapped rather pitifully. He strained his neck and wings, but the trap didn’t budge and he remained where he was.

“Nid!” He roared angrily, but she could detect the note of fear in his voice and waved down the archers standing ready on the walkway. They hesitated before lowering their weapons.

“Horvutah med kodaav. Caught like a bear in a trap,” rumbled the dragon ashamedly. “Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand dragon tongue,” Valkari replied.

“Ah, I forget. You do not have the dovah speech. My… eagerness to meet you in battle was my undoing, Dovahkiin. I salute you, hmm, low cunning in devising such a grahmindol – stratagem. Zu’u bonaar. You went through a great deal of trouble to put me in this humiliating position. Hind siiv Alduin, hmm? No doubt you want to find Alduin?”

“Where is he hiding?” she asked firmly.

“Rinik vazah. An apt phrase. Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was to test your Thu’um for myself. Many of us have begun to question Alduin’s lordship, whether his Thu’um is truly the strongest.” He paused a moment, before adding, “among ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him.”

“That doesn’t sound like the answer I was looking for,” Valkari pointed out, crossing my arms.

“Unslaad krosis. A thousand pardons. I digress. He has travelled to Sovengarde, devouring the sillesejoor… Souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards. His door to Sovengarde is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mondoraan, pah ok middovahhe lavhrann til. I surely do not need to warn you that his remaining strength is marshalled there.”

“How am I not surprised?” she remarked. Given how quickly he was to quit the field at the Throat of the World, it wasn’t shocking to hear he had moved onto the defensive.

“Zu’un lost ofan hin laan… Now that I have answered your question, will you allow me to go free?” He asked.

Valkari hesitated. She didn’t necessarily want to kill him when he had complied so willingly, and after what happened to the last dragon kept here, she wouldn’t want him caged. But freeing him just gave him the chance to warn Alduin that she was coming, if he didn’t know already.

“When Alduin is dead, then we’ll discuss your freedom,” Valkari said coolly, turning to walk away. Skuldafn… Surely Esbern would know something about it.

“Ah, well… Hmm, krosis. There is… one detail about Skuldafn that I neglected to mention.”

She paused, glancing back at the dragon.

“You have the Thu’um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course, I could fly you there, but not while imprisoned like this.”

Valkari turned back to him. “And I’m supposed to take your word on that? Because I heard that the armies of the Ebonheart Pact made Skuldafn the meeting place of their leaders.”

“Ahrann, you refer to the Soulburst, yes? I have heard the tales since my return to this world. Krosis. I do not know how Skuldafn’s isolation came to be, only that it is beyond mortal reach now. I may not tell the whole truth, but I am no liar. Go, see for yourself. Zu’u nib o nol het. I will be here… unless Alduin returns before you do.”

Valkari frowned and turned to think.

There was no saying how long it might take to reach Skuldafn on foot, and time was not on their side if Alduin was consuming souls at that very moment. Unless Odahviing was lying… But somehow she doubted it… He had nothing to gain from lying, especially if Alduin’s position was as precarious as he said…

Valkari turned back to Odahviing, who was watching her expectantly.

“You have reconsidered my offer, hmm? Onikaan kron? You will release me – ro laan – if in return I promise to take you to Skuldafn and stop helping Alduin?”

“And if you promise to leave mortals alone,” she added. “Those are the terms.”

“Hmm, yes. A fair offer. Very well. Onikaan koraav gein miraad. It is wise to recognise when only you have one choice. And you can trust me. Zu’u ni tahrodiis. Alduin has proven himself unworthy to rule. I go my own way now. Free me, and I will take you to Skuldafn.”

“Don’t make me regret this. I’ve already made myself one enemy for sparing a dragon, and I don’t want to make more,” she said darkly, thinking of how willingly Delphine had drawn her sword at her. She just hoped Soran and Esbern could keep her under control.

Valkari climbed the steps leading to the trap switch. The guard posted there was gazing down at Odahviing before glancing up and standing at attention.

“My Thane.”

“Open the trap,” she ordered.

He balked, visibly shocked. “You sure about that? You want to let that dragon loose after all the trouble to catch him in there?”

“Did I stutter? Open the trap, now.”

The guard looked down to Balgruuf, who nodded, though even he seemed rather uncertain about letting Odahviing out.

He sighed. “Fine. Your funeral. Someone else is going to have to help you get him back in there though.” He turned to the other guards. “Get ready to open the trap!”

Weapons were kept at the ready, should Odahviing go back on his word. The guard pulled the chain and the bars pinning Odahviing lifted back into position in the rafters. Odahviing stretched his neck and wings gratefully, turning back towards the porch (with some difficulty, considering his great bulk in the limited space).

“Faas nu, zini dein ruthu ahst vaal.”

“By all the Gods…” murmured Irileth, her hand still firmly gripping her sword handle.

Valkari leapt down to the ground below and followed after the dragon. He came to a stop and lifted his head, sniffing the air and stretching his wings again, then looking down at her.

“Saraan uth. I await your command, as promised. Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Zok brit uth! I warn you, once you’ve flown the skies of Keizaal, your envy of the dov will only increase!”

He lowered his head, laying it on the ground so she could climb up. Taking a deep breath, Valkari grabbed one of his horns, placed a foot against his neck and hoisted her other leg other. It was difficult just to sit comfortably, with his jagged spines and scales, but once she’d gotten as comfortable as she would ever be, she gripped his horns tightly.

“Val… Are you sure about this?”

She looked around to see Lydia standing there, looking at the dragon warily.

“Only room for one anyway, and what choice do we have?” she replied, shrugging. “And besides, our one option has always worked out in the past, hasn’t it?”

Lydia didn’t look convinced, but she stepped back regardless.

“Talos watch over you,” she murmured.

“And you.” Valkari turned to Odahviing. “I’m ready.”

Odahviing chuckled again. “We shall see, Dovahkiin.”

He launched himself forward off of the balcony. Valkari screamed involuntarily as they plummeted downwards, the wind threatening to send her flying off, and she gripped even more tightly than she thought possible, whilst lowering herself right against his neck, eyes squeezed shut. She heard Balgruuf shouting something, but it was lost in the rush of air.

Then suddenly, the worst was over as she felt her weight shift in the opposite direction and then levelled out. Valkari still didn’t dare to open her eyes, praying to every god she knew.

“Open your eyes Dovahkiin!” laughed Odahviing, sounding very pleased to be in the air.

Reluctantly, Valkari did as he said and she gasped. They had to be thousands of miles above the ground, Whiterun now a mere speck on the ground below as Odahviing soared through the sky. In the bright sunlight, the membranes of his wings glittered like opals, and his scales shone like rubies. The wind had torn down her hood, and her hair streamed out behind her. Her heart, which had been thundering in her chest before, was beginning to slow and after a few moments, she could see what Odahviing meant by envy. This was wonderful. Never had she felt so free, skimming across the clouds as the wind tore through her hair. Below, Skyrim seemed like a child’s toy set, and the sky above was an endless void of bright blue.

Odahviing veered east, in the direction of the mountains on Skyrim’s fringes. Now they just had to reach Skuldafn.

[]

The air turned cold as they went deeper and deeper into the mountains until the ancient ruins peered just above the distant ridges. Valkari was very glad she had chosen to fly with Odahviing. She’d never experienced anything quite so wonderful.

Odahviing dropped lower, swooping in low and fast whilst trying to avoid drawing attention. He landed a short distance from the main body of the ruin, out of sight in the shadows of a shelf of rock. He lowered his head, allowing her to slip down from his neck. Being back on solid ground felt very strange after soaring through the skies. Odahviing was right; it was indeed something to be envious of, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

“This is as far as I can take you,” he said in a low voice. “Krif voth ahkrin. I will look for your return… or Alduin’s.”

“Nox hi, dii fahdon,” Valkari replied, smirking at the surprise on his face. He shook his head and took off, vanishing over the ridge whilst Valkari drew the Shadowcloak tightly around herself. It might not be enough to get her past all of Alduin’s forces, but it would give her an advantage of a sort, surely.

As she crept around the corner in search for the entrance to the ruin, she saw a bronze coloured dragon. It was thickset and built like a tank, with a thick, club-like protrusion on the end of its tail and a short, stocky neck. She edged around it as slowly as she dared. Hopefully the wind didn’t change, or else it would catch her scent in a matter of seconds. But good fortune was on her side and Valkari passed the dragon with little trouble. It was one fight she knew that she would never be able to win on her own.

Once she was certain the dragon would never even know that she was there, Valkari pressed forward to the entrance. There were plenty of draugr skulking about, but being less intelligent than a dragon, they were easier to avoid and a lesser concern.

The inside of Skuldafn was much like any other ancient nordic ruin, and even with the weight of the mission on her shoulders, nordic burial crypts were a thousand times better than any dwemer ruin. At least nord ruins only had draugr, and no falmer and automatons creeping about the halls. Still, she wasted no time and pressed onward, avoiding any confrontation if possible.

Soon enough, Valkari came to what had to be the final chamber. Just as there had been in Bleak Falls Barrow, there were stone pillars bearing the symbols of a whale, an eagle and a snake, identical to the ones on the walls. But this time there were two gates to open, and she spied the all-too-familiar gaps for poisoned darts to shoot out of. She had to be very careful, or this tomb could be her inal resting place.

But no sooner than Valkari stepped into the room, the lid of the sarcophagus burst open and the draugr inside climbed out. Thin remains of bright red hair clung to its head and chin, and its eyes glowed the same eerie blue as any other draugr. But this one was different from the rest. For one, it was still dressed in armour (ragged, rotting armour, but armour nonetheless). It was also wearing a crown styled into the shape of a dragon. Valkari frowned. But this wasn’t the strangest thing about this draugr. It began to speak.

“Mortal, you dare trespass in this place,” the draugr said, in a deep voice. “By my ancestors, I shall see you dead!”

It hoisted a large axe in its skeletal fingers, but Valkari shot first, right between the eyes, and it crumpled, falling to the ground. Its crown flew from its head, rolling across the floor before arriving at her feet where she picked it up. In her fingers, she could see runes carved into the golden metal. The imagery of dragons, much like the ones Niraen described when she told them all tales of the Planemeld a millennia ago.

Valkari had just defeated the lingering shadow of Skald King Jorunn.

Tucking the crown into her pack, she turned to the puzzle before her. Runa and Dorthe would love to see it, of that she was sure. It was only as she turned the last pillar did Valkari realise how odd a thought that had been. Ordinarily she’d only have thought about how much gold she could get from it. She shrugged to herself. She loved Runa, and liked Dorthe plenty; had it been anyone else, they’d be paying a pretty sum if they wanted this crown.

Putting the matter from her mind for the moment, Valkari flipped the switch and the gate on the left opened, revealing a staircase leading upward. She hurried up the steps, avoiding the crumbling stone that had fallen down over the years. It was hard to believe that any great alliance’s leaders would have met here once and walked these same halls.

The stairs led out to the outer walkway of a walled-off plateau. And behind the walls, a pillar of pure light streamed into the darkening sky. That was it then.

But no sooner than Valkari stepped foot into the plateau, a robed figure swept up a tall flight of stairs beyond the portal and removed something from its place. The light faded, and she knew that the portal was closed.

“Someone doesn’t want me getting to Sovngarde Alduin’s way then… Fine,” Valkari muttered, readying an arrow as the robed figure turned its attention to her.

She could see instantly it was kin to the draugr, but something about it was intrinsically different, from its flowing, tattered robes and the fact it was floating a foot off of the ground. A metal mask covered its face and it seemed to have a wing-like membrane stretching from wrist to hip, just like a dragon’s.

A dragon priest.

The priest shot a bolt of electrical energy at Valkari which she dodged by flattening herself against the nearby wall, the energy crackling inches in front of her face. She pushed away from the wall, shooting an arrow at the priest. It missed the eyehole of its mask by half an inch and bounced off. The priest let out a high, cold laugh as it lifted its staff, shooting flames this time. Valkari smelt burning fabric as the fireball skimmed past and caught her cloak. In a fluid motion, she tore it off and readied another arrow.

Her next arrow found its mark in the priest’s eye and it emitted an awful shrieking noise as it exploded into dust, its staff, mask and her arrow clattering to the ground.

Valkari stamped out the flames on her cloak before they destroyed it and examined the damage. Yet there wasn’t any to find. The cloak looked like it might have never been touched – a small mercy.

Tugging the cloak back over her shoulders, Valkari inspected the remains of the dragon priest. The mask would be worth something for some nutty collector, of that she was certain as she shoved it into her pack. The staff on the other hand... It was like several that she had seen mages carrying, but the thrumming power she felt beneath her fingers indicated something much older, and much more powerful. One end was stylised like that of a dragon’s head and runes and patterns were carved into the handle.

Valkari proceeded up the steps, which led to the platform the priest had removed it from. It stood over a curved basin in the ground, which she presumed to be the conduit for the portal, much like that of the Ebonmere. There was a small notch in the platform, just big enough for the base of the staff. She placed it inside before letting go.

The staff didn’t fall and the runes began to glow. Lines carved into the floor filled with the same silver-white light, leading down into the basin below. A bright white light swirled from within and the pillar of light burst up into the sky.

This was it. Everything would be decided within the next hour or so.

Taking a deep breath, she bent her knees and leapt forward into the portal.


	17. Alduin's Bane

As the light dissipated and her vision came back into focus, Valkari couldn’t help but be slack jawed at what lay before her.

A deep valley extended before her eyes, with statues of robed figures in prayer beneath an eternal twilight. Stars littered the sky, and in the centre was a familiar swirling light reaching through to Tamriel on the other side. At the far end of the valley, she could see a colossal structure of some sort, but from so far away she couldn’t make it out clearly. All she knew was that it was far bigger than any building she’d ever seen in my entire life. Sovngarde.

But Valkari could tell something was very wrong here. Golden braziers lit the path down into the valley, but their glow was quickly swallowed by a dense mist hanging over the valley. A mist that felt far too ominous for her liking.

She scoped out the area, but there was no sign of Alduin. He’d have to have known she was coming; why else would his priest try to keep her from getting to the portal? Then he was hiding, perhaps in the mountains, or lurking somewhere deep in the mist. The thought was unsettling, but she’d bested him once. She could do it again and this time, that great dirty lizard was going to learn what death was like.

With her resolve hardened, Valkari started down the path, sword at the ready. The path sloped downwards into the valley, and she couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the solemn statues looming overhead. It felt like she was being watched.

The mist was thick, and she could barely see more than a foot or so in front of her. She doubted even a magical magelight could pierce it, let alone a torch. Ordinarily she’d consider fog a friend of her’s, as it made getting away from guards much easier. But this… this was different… This mist wasn’t her friend, and it felt as though every step she took was more sluggish than the last. The amulet of articulation stuck to her chest, cold against her skin. It felt like every breath was harder to draw. Alduin’s doing, no doubt.

“Is someone there?” a frightened voice cried out. “Please! Someone! _Anyone_!”

Valkari knew that voice, though it wasn’t one she’d expected to hear again. And if she was hearing it now… She peered through the mist as the shadowy figure drew closer and closer.

A nord man with blond hair stumbled out of the mist. He was clad in Stormcloak leathers, which were marred with burns. His outline was faintly glowing, and his blue eyes fell on her and widened.

“You… I remember you! From Helgen!”

“Ralof…” That was his name, she remembered. He’d helped her get through the tower, given her a path to follow… But then she killed him… Her stomach twisted in a way she wouldn’t expect.

“By the Nine, what are you doing here? I mean…” He gestured up and down. “You’re alive! How can that be?”

“It’s a long story. But if you’re here, then…”

Ralof gave her a very cold look. “Your aim struck true. It was quick, at least. Listen, Valkari, you have to go! That dragon, it’s-!”

“Alduin,” Valkari finished. “I know. I’m here to kill him.”

Ralof laughed bitterly. “It can’t be done. You think none of us have tried… My comrades… My friends were all devoured by that monstrosity. There’s no hope.”

“There is Ralof. I’m Dragonborn.”

He blinked once. Then twice. And then a third time.

“Dragonborn…? Like the stories? Like Talos himself?”

She nodded.

“Then… perhaps there is hope. But first, we need to find a way through this mist, to Shor’s Hall on the other side. I’ve been lost here for so long… You don’t know the way, do you?”

“It was in that direction. Let’s go, we’ll make it together.”

Ralof swallowed, but nodded regardless and they set off deeper into the mist, weapons at the ready. All around them, Valkari could hear the moans and cries of fear belonging to the lost souls trapped in the mist.

“I can’t find it!”

“Please, won’t someone help me?!”

“No more… No more, I can’t take this any longer.”

The mist was draining her again, and the tormented sounds weren’t helping in the slightest. Then, there was the scream, followed by the beating of giant wings as Alduin erupted out of nowhere, skimming across the path ahead of them as he snatched up the wandering lost souls in his jaws, before swooping out of sight.

“We need to move!” Valkari snapped, forcing herself into a run with Ralof just behind.

More screaming erupted from within the mist as Alduin dove again and again, devouring another soul every single time. It was monstrous beyond words.

Finally the mist parted and Valkari emerged on the other side. Before her was a heather on the edge of an abyss, with the only way forward being a great bridge, made from the bones of a whale that reached across the gap, leading to the foot of Sovengarde. It was far bigger, and far grander than she could ever have imagined.

“I told you we’d make it, Ralof!” she shouted, beaming as she turned to face him. But he wasn’t standing behind her. He stood at the fringes of the mist, looking as though he was pressing his hands to an invisible wall. “Ralof?”

“I… I can’t get past!” He cried. “The mist, it’s-!”

He was cut off as Alduin dove by yet again, and Valkari screamed as he snatched Ralof off of the ground. No! So close, so _fucking_ close!

“Ralof!”

But Alduin vanished, and Ralof was gone.

“FUCK!” she yelled, resisting every urge to throw her sword to the ground. They’d gotten so close to safety, and Alduin caught him at the last moment. It was like a sick twist in some horrific story… And maybe that was what it was. Just another story, as the Hero of Kvatch had become, as had the Soulburst. Just another story where people died and no one would even remember them.

Valkari had to end this now, before Alduin could devour any more souls. But what good could she do all alone like this? She needed help… And some of history’s greatest heroes sat just on the other side of that bridge. She turned to face it, but someone was already standing there. A giant of a man, he was a nord with a broad chest and muscles like cannon balls. He had an axe slung over his shoulder, and his entire body was covered in tribal tattoos. Valkari approached.

“What brings you, wayfarer grim, to wander here in Sovengarde, soul’s end, Shor’s gift to the honoured dead?” He asked in a booming voice.

“I want Alduin’s head, but I need help to do it.”

He nodded ruefully. “A fateful errand. Now few have chafed to face the wyrm since he first set his soul-snare here at Sovngarde’s threshold, but Shor restrained our wrathful onslaught – perhaps, deep-counselled, your doom he foresaw.”

“Can I go in or not?”

“No shade are you, as usually passes through here, but living, you dare the land of the dead. By what right do you declare entry?”

“By right of birth. I am Dragonborn!” Valkari declared, more boldly and more confidently than she had ever done so before, the words settling right in her mouth for the first time.

“Ah! It has been too long since I last faced a doom-driven hero of the Dragon’s Blood! Living or dead, by Shor’s decree, none may pass this perilous bridge until I judge them worthy by the warrior’s test.”

He drew his axe and Valkari barely rolled out of the way as he swung it at her, the blade skimming dangerously close over her head. He was bigger than she was, and his weapon was bigger than her’s, but it meant that she was all that much faster, and his swing left him wide open.

Valkari took her sword and dove straight in, stabbing him right through the gut. He shuddered for a moment, before stepping back so that the blade came free. He shouldered his axe and his wound sealed so quickly, it was gone before she could even blink.

“You fight well,” he said, bowing his head. “I find you worthy. It is long since one of the living has entered here. May Shor’s favour follow you and your errand.”

He stood to one side, allowing her to pass.

Crossing the bridge was like child’s play. Valkari had grown up doing exercises just like this – the fall was just longer, that was all. Within moments, she was on the other side and standing at the doors to Sovengarde. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open.

It was like stepping into a hot bath, after the oppressive chill of the mist. The hall was lit with golden flames like those that ought to have lit the path to the hall. Fires burnt in pits each as long as a giant’s foot, with entire cows being roasted over them. Kegs of ale the size of mammoths lined a far wall, and every table was full, brimming with innumerable people. The hall itself was larger than words could describe, and all over the place she could see countless doors leading off from the main hall, to other parts of the building.

But what struck her most of all was that, despite being upheld as a nordic afterlife, was the overwhelming number of non-nord people.

A khajiit with tawny fur and a short red mohawk was in the middle of regaling some incredible story to his companions, two altmer, a bosmer and another khajiit. An imperial with sandy blond hair was darting through the crowd with what looked suspiciously like an oversized pair of undergarments, and not long after, an orc was bowling people over chasing him, with nothing to hide his nethers. A small huddle of argonians were making their way through a door off of the hall, and just beyond Valkari spied what looked like some kind of tree. Redguards were holding an arm wrestling competition with some dunmer, the former currently seeming to be winning. Some bretons were currently showing off their magic to a large group of onlookers whilst some bosmer were leaping between the chandeliers overhead, and Valkari could see a nord woman sat at a nearby table, decked in carved armour that was riddled with scratches, seated alongside a dark haired breton woman.

As the door closed behind her, the nord woman looked over her shoulder and smiled, and Valkari’s heart did a somersault. No... It couldn't be.

The woman got to her feet and weaved her way between the throngs of bustling people to where Valkari was standing.

She had dark red hair and brown eyes, and she was clad in black leathers. Her face was painted with dark makeup, much like Valkari's own, and she carried a familiar bow and quiver of arrows.

“You’ve come a long way to get here, Kari,” Jordis said, smiling gently. “You've grown.”

Tears burned at the corners of Valkari’s eyes as she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered over and over again, unable to stop herself as Jordis wrapped her arms around her daughter, chuckling.

"There's nothing to apologise for darling. You've done so well, but you're not done yet."

Gently, she eased Valkari away, her hands on her shoulders as she looked her over, still smiling.

"I want nothing more than to spend every moment we have together, but I'm afraid there are others who need you just a bit more than I do right now."

She led Valkari away through the hall, and she found herself having to jog just to keep up as Jordis' stride was much longer than her’s.

“It’s been a long time since anyone stepped through those doors… Or it feels like a long time. You’re the first, since Alduin laid his snare.”

“That’s probably because I’m still alive,” Valkari pointed out, slipping between a pair of burly nords showing off their various war scars. “I was with someone, but he couldn’t escape the mist. Alduin got him.”

“I’m very sorry. I know what it’s like to lose a friend. But if we act quickly, we might be able to save the rest from Alduin.”

“We?”

“Naturally. You’re looking for help." Her smile was all too understanding. "Do you really think anyone here could accomplish what they did alone?"

No. From what Niraen had told her, it seemed everyone always had help.

"So, I take it you knew about the Nightingales?" Valkari asked, if only to steer the conversation in another direction.

She shook her head, weaving her way between a group of khajiit and bosmer playing cards and the edges of a throng watching a very intense sparring match between a nord and a redguard. One stuck the other through with his sword, tore it out again and they both laughed before shaking hands.

"I did more than know. There was a time I studied with the Priests of Nocturnal, when I was a rebellious defiant young woman," she said. "Our family has long had ties to the Night Mistress. A tradition you've continued, I see."

Valkari shrugged. "It was necessary."

"I know. It was when I arrived here that I learned of Mercer's treachery." Her jaw clenched. "He should consider himself lucky that it's Nocturnal who he answers to and not me. Otherwise..."

Neither of them said anything more as she led Valkari over to a door leading away from the main hall and into a smaller, quieter antechamber. Jordis ushered her in and closed the door behind her, leaving her quite alone.

It was like going deaf, as the noise and chatter of the mead hall fell silent once the door shut. She was in what appeared to be a trophy room of some sort. Weapons adorned the walls, from axes to swords and staves, whilst entire dragon skeletons had been hung from the ceiling. Medals and trophies filled the cabinets, and she paused to inspect one of them when the door opened again.

Valkari looked up to see three people striding in, two clad in armour and the third in a moth eaten robe. Three people she had definitely seen before.

Gormlaith grinned wolfishly, drawing her sword at the sight of Valkari.

“At long last,” she cheered. “Alduin’s doom is now ours to seal! Just speak the words and with high hearts, we will hasten to smite the wyrm wherever he lurks!”

Felldir held up a hand before Gormlaith, looking rather more cautious. “Hold comrades, let us take counsel before battle is blindly joined. Alduin’s mist is more than just a snare – it’s shadowy gloom is his shield and cloak. But with four Voices joined, our valour combined, we can blast the mist and bring him to battle.”

“Felldir speaks wisdom,” Hakon agreed. “The World Eater, coward, fears you, Dragonborn. We must drive away his mist, Shouting together, and then unsheathe our blades in desperate battle against our black-winged foe.”

“Let’s get this over with then,” Valkari said determinedly. Then everything would be back to normal. A nice, profitable normal.

Gormlaith led the way, and flung the door into the hall wide open before tearing off through the thong with her blade held high.

“To battle my friends! The fields will echo with the clamour of war, our wills undaunted!”

Valkari heard Hakon let out a small groan, before he also drew his axe and followed after.

“At least she’s enthusiastic,” she murmured to Felldir, as they hurried after the pair. Felldir gave a small chuckle, drawing his own blade from within the folds of his robes.

By the time they had stepped back into the cold, Gormlaith was on the other side of the bridge, Hakon following behind. Valkari followed after, daringly making her way across the tall spines of the vertebrae if only for a brief thrill before the final battle. If things went poorly, it would be the last time she could hope to do such a thing.

And then it was time, as they stood at the fringes of the mist, so thick that she couldn’t see anything beyond it. They formed a line at the fringes, and Valkari took out the black Nightingale blade Karliah had given to her all those years ago. She doubted that a bow would be of any use in this fight, and it felt fitting to use the sword that had driven Alduin into fleeing.

“Clear Skies! Combine our Shouts!” called Gormlaith, her fingers flexing around her sword handle.

“LOK VAH KOOR!” they Shouted, the noise near deafening as it echoed across the valley, blasting away the mist and revealing what it had concealed for the first time.

But from somewhere within, a familiar voice replied: “VEN MUL RIIK!”

The mist rolled back over the valley once more, as though nothing had changed.

“Again!”

They Shouted again, repelling the mist, and once more Alduin restored it. But was it just her, or did it look thinner than before?

“Does his strength have no end?” despaired Hakon. “Is our struggle in vain?”

“Stand fast!” Gormlaith shouted down the line, pure passion burning in her voice. “His strength is failing! Once more, and his might will be broken!”

“His power crumbles! Do not pause for breath,” called Felldir.

One final time, they Shouted: “LOK VAH KOOR!”

Once more, the mist dissipated, but this time it did not return. Instead, a furious roar echoed across the valley as a gigantic silhouette erupted from the distant mountains, diving towards them, maw bright with flame and eyes burning with bloodlust.

“This is it,” Valkari shouted. “It’s him or us, and if it’s us, we’re sure as fuck taking him with us!”

“I could not have put it better myself, Sister,” cheered Gormlaith.

Alduin let out a roar and the sky darkened, raining with fire once more. As Valkari dodged out of the path of a fireball, she spotted him swoop by. He had no intentions of making this easy.

“JOOR ZAH FRUL!” she Shouted, striking Alduin as he swooped past. She staggered as the energy tore through her once again, but Alduin was downed. He crashed against a large cropping of rock, and when Valkari got back to her feet she could see that his wings were bent at odd angles – they were broken.

He writhed, struggling to hold himself straight as the others charged at him. He snapped his jaws and spewed fire as Gormlaith buried her sword deep between his scales. He let out a furious roar of agony, which she’d not heard him do before. He was vulnerable here, unlike back in Tamriel. But their attacks weren’t working, and at this rate, they’d be wearing themselves into the ground before he was finished.

Valkari darted forward, reaching for her hooked dagger. If she got this right, she could finish this here and now.

Alduin snarled and snapped before turning his wicked gaze to Valkari.

“Pahlok joore!” He boomed. “Hin kah fen kos bonaar!”

He took a snap at her. She sidestepped and lodged the blade between his scales, causing him to roar in fury. He threw back his ugly head, trying to throw her off, but it only gave her the opportunity she was looking for. She swung her leg up and glared right at him.

“I win,” she spat, skewering her sword right through his good eye.

Alduin let out an agonised shriek of a roar, rearing up in pure agony and tossing his head left and right. There was no time to tear out the sword, so Valkari leapt to the ground instead, tumbling across the grass as Alduin, like all the other dragons she had killed, began to be consumed by flames. But it was different this time. A vortex of flame and wind erupted from him, throwing Valkari and the ancient nords back across the heather as the storm consumed the World Eater.

“Zu’u unslaad! Zu’u nis oblaan!” He screamed as his flesh tore from his bones, which dissolved into ash. His bones dissolved into a torrent of orange light which spiralled into a swirling black vortex high above them.

And with a final bang, Alduin was gone.

Shaking slightly, Valkari got to her feet, somewhat dazed as though she’d been cracked over the head with a club.

It was over. She had done it. She had actually killed Alduin. She’d actually done it.

A great roar of victory swept across the valley and Valkari barely looked up when she found herself being hoisted up to sit on Gormlaith and Hakon’s shoulders, as the hoards from Sovngarde poured out across the bridge to meet us. They swarmed over, all cheering and waving their weapons and hailing her, Valkari, of all people.

“And once again, a hero emerges from the most unlikely of places,” laughed a regal altmer woman garbed in blue armour with a crown upon her head. “Honour to you, Dragonborn.”

“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” shouted an orc, and soon she found herself being overwhelmed with compliments and words meant for anyone other than her. Overwhelmed with emotion, Valkari buried her face into her hands and she could hear them all laugh, but not in a malicious manner. It was all too understanding.

“I believe, Dragonborn,” said a redguard in Blades armour, who was grinning broadly, “that this belongs to you.”

He was carrying her sword, the one Karliah had given to her. The one she had killed Alduin with. Its blade was sticky with thick, red blood and bits of sinew still stuck to it. Valkari took it gratefully, wiping her eyes quickly.

“Come now, I think the poor woman could use a moment,” a kindly voice called somewhere below. It was an imperial man who had spoken, with chestnut hair and warm blue eyes. He was dressed in a priest’s robes and when Gormlaith and Hakon lowered her to the ground, he took her hands in his.

“Well done. You overcame many obstacles to get here. You ought to be proud,” he said softly, smiling.

Valkari nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He touched a hand to her face, brushing back a few loose strands of red hair.

"Whatever you might think of yourself, you have the soul of a hero," he said gently. "Never let it be said that you have not proved your worth, far more than many of the Dragon's Blood ever have."

The words caught in her throat, and she just nodded. He smiled before pulling her into a hug.

"The Dragon's Blood is a heavy burden to carry, but you are strong enough."

"Thank you," Valkari managed to murmur before parting from him as her mother finally appeared from the throng, beaming brightly. Valkari didn't hesitate to run to her, throwing her arms around her shoulders.

"I am so proud of you darling," Jordis said, hugging her so tightly, it felt like she might never let go. And Valkari didn't want her to. "You've done what no one else could, my heart. If your father could see you now-"

Her voice caught in her throat, and she said no more before finally relinquishing her hold.

"You know what Pa is like. He's too busy insisting he's not soft," she joked, smiling weakly.

Jordis laughed.

"Of course he is. But you make sure you tell him that I'm thinking of him always... And that I'll have that bottle of wine waiting like I promised."

Valkari nodded and knew it was time to go. So finally, she relented and nodded as the gatekeeper approached. Jordis nodded at him before turning back to Valkari.

"It's time for you to go Kari. But know that I love you, and there will always be a seat for you here by our fire when the time comes. It is time that Tsun here sent you back."

Valkari nodded, her eyes wet as she turned to Tsun, who was waiting expectantly.

“Are you ready to return to the land of the living?”

In all honesty, she wanted more time, but one day she’d have all the time in the world. So she nodded as the crowd hung back, waiting.

“NAAL DAAL VUS!”

The energy washed over her, and with a thundering crack, she was gone.


	18. Epilogue: New Beginnings

With Alduin dead, the dragons were quickly rallied by Paarthurnax, who seemed quite fixed on turning them to the Way of the Voice. Of course, not all were willing to bow to his ways so quickly but the stragglers Valkari found were easy enough to deal with once she put a nice dent into their pride.

How some might feel if they knew that the Throat of the World was becoming the coming and going of many of the remaining dragons in Tamriel, she was all too aware, and so she agreed with Paarthurnax and the Greybeards that it was best to keep it secret.

The only exception was Odahviing, who had proved most impressed with her abilities and would wait for her call, should she ever need him. Personally, though she'd grown to rather like Odahviing, she hoped that was never the case again.

Of course, the end of the Dragon Crisis also meant the war was back on in full swing, though it seemed that the tide had turned in Tullius’ favour, even with the lull in the violence allowing the Stormcloaks to attempt to regroup. With only Markarth under his control, Ulfric was severely outmatched, and with the fabled Jagged Crown sat atop Elisif’s brow and the many holds bearing Imperial colours, many saw Ulfric's end before he did. The Imperial Legion was sweeping across the province, and Valkari didn't doubt that soon Windhelm would fall to them.

Riften was rebuilt, thanks to the efforts of certain anonymous donors, and the city quickly returned to the mundane day-to-day. Not all was perfect however. In the wake of an Imperial victory at Fort Greenwall, Maven Black-Briar - of all people - was named the new Jarl of Riften after Jarl Leila was forced to surrender. Though her empire was in shambles, her new position restored some of her power base. Fortunately for Valkari, Delvin did some very quick thinking and made some arrangements with Astrid. The Dark Brotherhood would no longer target members of the Thieves Guild, meaning Maven couldn’t try to have the contract on Valkari’s life rearranged now. And even though their attempts to thwart Maven had ultimately been in vain, the Thieves Guild were more powerful than ever before, and maintained a fierce grip over all of Skyrim and its coffers were overflowing with more coin than they could have dreamed of.

As for the Blades, even with the Thalmor hunting for them in every corner, they flourished under the united leadership of Soran, Niraen and Esbern, which Valkari quickly made permanent given how well they worked together. And it helped that they had plenty of other experienced hands on deck as well. More Blades agents came out of hiding and made their way to the temple, and others sought out Skyhaven to join them. Of course Lydia had also joined up, and was proving a very strict instructor for the recruits but most effective.

Delphine wasn't just a problem that would go away unfortunately. Her bitterness of being cast out of the Blades would undoubtedly last a lifetime, and it wasn't long before a new band of dragon hunters formed under her leadership. Valkari used what influence she had to suppress them, but it was hard to fight an enemy when so many people looked to them for protection from the dragons that Paarthurnax had yet to turn to the Way of the Voice. She could only wonder how long it would be before they became bold enough to try and attack the Throat of the World.

But the concerns for the future were for another time, and another place. Shortly following the end of the Dragon Crisis, Valkari had remembered the lexicon that Septimus had wanted, and it seemed fitting to return it quickly, if only to put the entire mess behind her once and for all.

When she arrived, the old man was waiting down in the cavern, mumbling and running his fingers over the lock box obsessively.

"Septimus?"

He turned, misty eyes wide in anticipation. She held out the lexicon.

"You have it!" He cried, shuffling over and snatching it out of her hands, examining the glowing runes inscribed upon it.

"Sorry about the wait, but given the circumstances, I believe it was an acceptable reason."

"Extraordinary… I see it now," he muttered, ignoring her entirely. "The sealing structure interlocks in the tiniest fractals. Dwemer blood can loose the hooks, but none alive remain to bear it… A panoply of their brethren could together form a facsimile… A trick… Something they didn't anticipate, no not even them… Yes… The blood of all those together…"

He turned his eerie gaze to her.

"And you…"

Valkari wasn't given any warning as he seized her wrist and slit open her palm with a small knife.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" she yelled, wrenching her arm away and reaching for a weapon. But Septimus was already dripping the blood from his knife into a small bronze device.

"Draw out the blood… Purify it…" He mumbled. "Yes. Yes, perfect. To think, one human woman could have traces of all the blood…"

She frowned, still clutching her weeping hand as the distilled blood dripped into a glass vial. It barely filled the bottom, but for Septimus, it was enough.

He shuffled over to the box, trickling her blood onto his fingers and he wiped it across the surface of the box.

The rings began to shift and spin, faster and faster until they lined up uniformly with the three glass circles in the centre. Then, with a click, they sank inwards, revealing a long tunnel before rolling to one side, revealing whatever was within.

Septimus hurriedly clambered inside and hurried down the tunnel with surprising speed. She ought to have just left, but curiosity compelled her to follow the old man. From the outside, it didn't look like such a tunnel could even possibly exist within the lock box, but then again, when were dwemer devices ever what they appeared?

"What is this?" cried Septimus from within as she edged down the tunnel. "It's just a book! It's… I can see. The world beyond burns in my mind's eye… It's marvellous."

Inside was a large, square room with only one thing inside. A book stood on a pedestal in the middle of the room. But Valkari had other concerns for the moment, as Septimus was slowly rising into the air before promptly dissolving into ashes.

She yelped, stumbling slightly as he disintegrated into a pile on the floor. She knew this thing could only have been bad news. She had to get out of there, and leave the infernal book where it belonged.

But as she turned to leave, she was met with a most grotesque and unwelcome sight. The thick, glistening tentacles and bulbous eyeballs of Hermaeus Mora.

"Come, my Champion," he purred.

"What part of 'I'm not your Champion' have you failed to understand?" she spat, clenching her fists.

But the Daedric Prince merely laughed, as if amused by her repeated refusal of him.

"Who do you think brought Septimus here?" He asked. "Who do you think protected you on your journey to open the box and loose my knowledge on this world? Your free will is an illusion. Whether you acknowledge me or not is your own business. But I will be in your mind, Dragonborn. Even when you have long forgotten me."

"And what's to stop me from just leaving your book here?" she jeered.

"Nothing… But know that that alone will not stop me from luring another here, to bring the Oghma Infinium into your world," he replied mockingly. "As I say, free will is an illusion. Farewell Dragonborn. I have no doubt we will speak again… In time."

And like before, he vanished into nothing.

Valkari gritted her teeth and turned to the book on the pedestal. She could just leave it there and forget about it. What did she care for Hermaeus Mora's machinations?

But if he brought another here for the sole purpose of bringing the book and its knowledge onto the world, no doubt bringing even more chaos… Chaos she had worked hard to subdue.

So in a moment of pure spite, she grabbed the book and shoved it into her pack.

"See how far your minions get finding this at the bottom of the sea."


End file.
